


A Shift in the Force

by Trash_Baby



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: :), ?? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF Reader, Badass Reader, But he's trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fighting, Force Bond, Force Training, Force Use, Force-Sensitive Reader, Hux is a Dick, I think Kylo likes you, Kinda, Knight of Ren - Freeform, Knights of Ren - Freeform, Kylo doesn't know how to comfort, Kylo is being nice, Kylo is now in awe, Kylo is scary, Kylo's scar, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Powerful Reader, Reader is from another galaxy, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Star Wars Universe, They suck, Training, Use of the Force, aka the Milky Way, and suspicious, blasters, bless his soul, but nice, confused reader, connection, everyone is doubtful, i think, it was unintentional, like super-powerful, or how to interact with people, people skills are non-existent, soul mates, stormtroopers - Freeform, the tags take forever to load, why are you being nice Kylo?, wow does he like you?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Baby/pseuds/Trash_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've lived a pretty normal life as a hard-core Star Wars fan, then along comes Star Wars Episode VII to shake things up. Without a clue as to what's going on, you find yourself in the universe of Star Wars, and at the interest of a particular Knight of Ren - and what does he mean when he says the Force is strong with you?</p><p> </p><p>(Quite possibly the worst summary ever but I promise it's good inside)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this works tbh but please bear with me

If anyone knew you, then they knew that you were a _Star Wars_ fan, and a hard-core one at that. Your first clear memories were of _Star Wars_ ; you grew up with the films, hell, you practically lived off it. You owned more merchandise than was probably healthy; however, comparing your merch collection to your obsession with a particular character, you figured that to any sane person, the collection actually looked normal.

When the latest _Star Wars_ film, _The Force Awakens_ , had been released, your obsession took on a whole new level. You had been completely and utterly absorbed by the Knight of Ren, eyes wide and lips parted whenever he was on screen. It was something that you couldn’t quite place, however, you never gave it much thought (in your opinion, Mark Hamill was - unfortunately - just a little bit too old for you; Adam Driver, however . . . Yup, he was _just right_ . . .).

It was around that time that things started happening.

It had started out small, minuscule, at first. So small that you barely noticed – after all, why pay attention to a dream that felt like déjà vu? You had shaken it off, however, when the feeling of déjà vu took a twist (that twist being seeing things happen _before_ they happened), you started to notice. After an anxious internalized debate, you had expressed your suspicions to a friend – a mixture of concern and curiosity tinting your voice when you did – however, they had laughed you off, murmuring something about how you were so obsessed with _Star Wars_ ; ‘Maybe it’s the Force’, they had joked, waving their arms in the air in a display of mystery.

Their teasing, though a slight sting, put you at ease; you were being silly, and besides, the events that you had seen in your dreams were nothing of particular importance, nothing more than a workmate not being in the next day, or that you had ran out of bread. Small things, insignificant things, things that could easily be chalked up to coincidence.

It was later on, when your mind had been put at ease, that more things started happening.

It had started with the thought of ‘my alarm clock needs to shut up’, as you lay face down in bed, a pillow crushed to your ears as the wail of your alarm sounded from the other side of your room. The night before, you had made the effort to put it there, figuring that if you had to actually _get up_ to turn it off, then you were much more likely to wake up on time. It didn’t strike you until after you had relaxed your death-grip on your pillow, when you had just started to drift back to sleep, that the alarm had been silenced, though your sleep-fogged brain tossed out the explanation that the battery must have conveniently died.

When you rolled out of bed, half an hour later to get ready, you had glanced at the clock out of habit, only to realize that it was still working, the LED’s flashing the correct time to your confused face. You had shrugged it off, though it still lingered in the back of your mind, only to hit you full-force not an hour later when your empty glass of juice suddenly refilled at the thought of ‘ugh, I need more juice’.

Needless to say, you were scared shitless, and had taken the day off with the hope of figuring out what the fuck was going on.

And then another day.

And another . . .

Until, on the fourth day of more weird shit happening at a mere thought, you decided that enough was enough. You had already scoured the web, desperate for answers, only to come up with phrases like ‘telekinesis’ and ‘magic’. You had scoffed initially – _magic? **Seriously**?_ – however, when nothing else seemed to fit the situation (after hours of contemplating whether or not you had simply gone mad), you accepted that must be what was going on. Right?

Going off on that assumption, you delved into the internet again, and after clicking on maps accidentally, you paused in your search for answers. There, on the map, not even a full mile from where you lived, was a store labelled ‘Star Child Magic’. You had stared for a full minute, breath held, before nodding stiffly to yourself, the decision made.

Yup, you were going to the magic shop.

You had checked out the site before leaving, and, from what little experience with this you had (which was none) you figured that it was pretty legit. You _hoped_ it was pretty legit – for a private reading, or whatever it was that you were going for, it cost _a lot_.

When you arrived, palms sweating and breaths shallow with nerves, you stood outside the door. Peering through the glass, you glanced about, the words ‘ _are you **actually** going through with this?_ ’ bouncing in your mind, before you wiped your damp hands on your denim-clad thighs, took a deep breath and entered. A bell chimed overhead, and your head jerked up with a muffled yelp at the sound, your wide eyes catching sight of an array of dream-catchers that hung from the ceiling. Incense that hung in the air, thick and heavy, making you choke on a cough as you moved deeper into the empty shop, to the back, where a sign simply said ‘readings’.

There was no door, though strands of beads hung in the frame. After a quick scan of the shop behind you, you parted them with trembling hands, poking your head in and flitting your gaze about anxiously before your body followed, stepping into the smaller room. It was dark (darker than the main room, which was only lighted by candles and crystal ornaments that lit up with the aid of an LED), and you squinted as you shuffled in, biting your lip when you realized that you probably had to book a – what were you here for? A sitting, an appointment, a ‘reading’?

Should you step out, go to the main desk and wait? And what about payment, was it upfront or paid after? _Most likely upfront payment,_ you considered. _It’s most likely a scam to catch out people . . . People like me._ You glance over your shoulder through the curtain of beads, unsure, though a wispy shriek escapes you when a light flicks on. You whip around, eyes wide as your body slips into a defensive pose (something that you had learned for both obvious and other purposes; it was always good to know how to defend yourself, and the other, somewhat secret reason, was because you wanted to fight like a Star Wars character – that fact was something that you would _never_ admit aloud).

However, when your frantic gaze settles, your body immediately goes lax. There, sat at a low table in the center of the room, was a woman. She was older, around sixty, and the soft wrinkles in her skin were highlighted by the gentle white glow of the crystal ball in the center of the table. “Come, sit, my dear.” She murmurs with a smile, gesturing to the pile of cushions on the opposite side of her, across from the table. You glance over your shoulder once more, even though you know that you’re the only one in the room, before sucking in a shuddering breath and shuffling over to sit down.

“My name is Agatha.” She introduces herself, her smile not once wavering. “And you are?”

“M-me? Oh . . . Oh! I’m uh, I’m Y/N . . . “ You force out, fingers finding each other to twist together in anxiety. _What the hell do I say now?!._ “I, I . . . I need your help, well, advice, I guess, with . . . With, uh, magic?” She inclines her head slightly, eyes slipping closed for a second before reaching across the table, fingers twitching in a ‘come hither’ fashion.

“You’ve come to the right place, my dear, for I have the ability to sense such things.” _Okay, then_ . . . “Place your hands in mine, my child, and I shall give you the information that you seek.” Biting the inside of your cheeks, you curse yourself mentally as your hands tremble, strengthening in intensity when your skin meets hers. “Close your eyes, Y/N, and open your mind . . .”

You nod, uncertain and inexperienced, yet follow her instructions, fluttering lids slipping closed as you try to ‘open your mind’. At first, you’re unsure by what she meant, and a frown has your eyebrows dipping together as frustration seeped through you. A few tries later, and you took a deep breath, deciding to try and _see_ what you were doing. You envisioned a box, which represented your mind, and imagined taking off the lid, revealing the contents.

Heat rushes to your cheeks when you look inside the mental box. It looked like a packing box, the contents filled to the brim with Star Wars, from merch to actors to literal scenes from the movies, silently playing as you flipped through them like images on a screen. You were too busy mentally assessing the contents of the box to hear Agatha gasp, and you were too concentrated to feel her grip on your hands tighten.

“Oh my . . . I . . . I’ve never felt magic this strong . . .” She breathed out, and you peeked an eye open in curiosity when her words slipped into your mind. Her eyes are closed, though it’s as if she is staring at something – _wait, your . . . was she looking into your mind?_

Without a thought, you slapped the lid back onto the box in your head, and she jolted with a gasp, almost wrenching herself away from you before she swallowed and forced herself to relax. “It’s okay, my dear, just relax . . .”

It took you a moment of studying her features to abide, your eye slipping closed again as you cautiously re-opened the box, dipping a hand in to pull out one of the scenes, as if it was playing on a screen.

“That’s it, Y/N . . . Study what you’re holding, explore it . . .” Agatha coached, and you frowned, wondering what she could mean. You started to do as she said, tilting the screen in the hands of your mind, only for your attention to be caught by another scene – a scene aboard the Finalizer, in the dark halls. No, not a scene, just an image . . .

An unexplainable surge of curiosity tugged at you, and the hands of your mind tilted the image, a finger reaching out to stroke at it in wonder. The texture of the walls looked so realistic in your mind’s eye, the chromatic finish polished to perfection and reflecting dark light. Your breath caught in your throat though when your finger actually _felt_ the wall, cool and metallic against your skin. You jolted, a yelp escaping you in shock, though you pushed through and touched it again, a breath of awe escaping you when you felt the metal again, rather than the warm grip of Agatha’s hand.

She said something, voice tight with concern, though you were too intrigued to focus on her words. Instead, you placed another finger against the wall, and then another, until your entire hand was touching it, palm flat against the cool surface. You pushed experimentally, lips parting at how solid, how _real_ it felt, and then, just like that, the whole world shifted.

It was unexplainable, inconceivable, however, one minute, you were staring down at an image in your mind, _studying_ it with your mind, and then the next moment, without a hint of warning, you were _there_.

You’re frozen as you stare at the wall. You can see your reflection (something that was not there in the image a moment before), can see how badly your body is trembling. Your eyes twitch down for a second to see your arm, which connects your torso and hand together – a hand that was pressed against a wall within the Finalizer.

What the fuck.

Meanwhile, on the control deck of the Finalizer, a specific Force user stiffened, face going blank as he felt the explosion of energy within the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is my first work on here (and also my first Star Wars fic omfg)
> 
> I don't really know what to say other than please let me know if you liked it? Let me know in the comments, kudos and stuff like that?


	2. Chapter 2

Your brain was frozen, stalling, completely stuck, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _wrong_. You were in a state of shock, unable to process just what the hell is going on. Slowly, you shift, head tilting ever so slowly to survey your surroundings, only to come up with a broader view of the Star Destroyer – more dark chromatic walls, matched by dark chromatic floors and dark chromatic ceilings. Your hand slips from the wall as your body twists, and you do a complete turn before stopping to face the wall again.

What . . ?

You take a step down the hall, only to freeze at the sound of the quiet tap of your foot echo down the empty corridor. Biting your lip, your gaze flits left and right as your brain kicks into gear – somewhat – trying to figure out just what was happening.

There’s absolutely no one around, you realize as you look again. _Where is everyone? Where’s_. . . You blink as you try to remember who you were with just a second ago. A name was on the tip of your tongue, though you just couldn’t quite remember . . . You shake away the thought as panic starts to seep into your veins, your breathing picking up until you were on the verge of hyperventilating, your hand shooting out to grip at the smooth wall in hopes of supporting your quivering frame.

Suddenly, footsteps can be heard, timed and in synchronization, and for a brief moment, you sigh in relief as your brain scrambles to formulate an explanation, however far-fetched. _Maybe it’s just an elaborate prank . . . Everyone knows that I love Star Wars, this must just be . . ._ Your thought dies in your mind as, though blurry vision, you catch sight of white. You try to slip into a defensive position, or at least a stance that allowed you to protect yourself, but your body locked in place. _So much for learning self-defense . . ._

Reflective and smooth, it takes you a second to realize that you’re staring at Stormtrooper armor and lots of it as they march, only to freeze in unison at the sight of you. “Hey, you!” One of them yells, grip on his blaster shifting to aim at you, and you automatically freeze _. . . Prank, elaborate . . . prank_. . . Your stuttering mind supplies weakly, yet something within you just _knows_.

This was no prank.

You slip to your knees as they give out on you, hitting the hard floor with a muffled thud as your breath rattles in your lungs. _Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_ \- is running through your mind without pausing, just a drone of hysteria as you stare at the blaster headed your way. Your body prepares to give out, and you collapse again, to your side, though something within you twists like an elastic band, and suddenly, you’re scrambling to your hands and knees and skittering back as a whine of panic bubbles in your throat.

“Stop right there!” The Stormtrooper yells again, picking up his pace, but you don’t listen, your mantra of _whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_ still just as loud, if not louder, as you move faster. Without warning, he fires, the bolt of energy headed straight for you. Scenes of blaster injuries flip through your mind like a stop-motion film, and without much thought, you throw a hand up, and, just like that, the bolt freezes in mid-air, buzzing and hissing and only a foot away from your face.

You stare at it with wide eyes, breath frozen in your lungs, though you’re quickly shaken out of it when another blast is shot, this one skimming past you, too late to be stopped. A yelp escapes you, and, not knowing what else to do, you flick your outstretched hand, as if flicking off water and the bolt of energy reverses its course, heading straight back to the one who opened fire.

It hit the Stormtrooper square in the chest, and he collapsed, another bolt of energy being fired off in his shock of being hit. You repeat your action, deflecting it and hitting another ‘trooper in the helmet. The rest of them open fire, a hail of energy bolts  aimed straight for you, and all you could do was scream, arms curling around you as you ducked your head.

Bolts continued to be fired, the noise constant and making you jerk with every shot, however, no pain came to you. Hesitantly, you peek out from behind the shield of your arms, a gasp lodged in your throat at what you see. Hundreds of energy bolts had been fired, though they were all suspended in the air in a spherical formation around you, as if an invisible force shield was keeping them at bay. They crackled and hissed, angry and red, and you could feel the heat of them, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, though not from strain.

You didn’t even realize that you were stopping the onslaught of blaster bolts.

Footsteps echo from behind you, though you fail to notice, too shocked and deafened by the halo of energy bolts to realize. The ‘troopers halt their fire, freezing in their positions. Some lower their blasters, whilst others remained still, and a frown dipped your brows. One by one, the bolts dissipated, leaving your line of vision clear and the hall silent, save for your wild gasps for air.

“W-what . . . What the f-f-fuck is going on?!” You manage to get out, eyes impossibly wide. You notice a Stormtrooper shift, and without a thought you scuttle back, the soles of your shoes squeaking against the immaculate surface until your back hit something.

A pair of legs.

You notice your previous attackers stiffen up, some of them straightening whilst others cowered back, and an audible gulp left you. You’d watched the film. You knew that there was only one person that they would react to like that.

“K-Kylo . . . Ren . . .” You squeaked out on a breath, voice cracking as you twist around and glance up, eyes scanning an impossibly long body, clad in black, until you caught sight of his mask, the visor trained on you.

 _Fuck_. In the film, you had adored his ability to scare people shitless with just that mask pointed at them. In the film, you knew what was behind that mask, had seen the scared, broken man that hid behind it. However, that was _in the film_. Here, now, without the safety of a screen between you and that mask, you found yourself equally terrified.

A strained whine leaves you as you tear your gaze away, only for the sound to morph into a yelp when more Stormtroopers round the corner to join their comrades. Without much thought, you slip around him and hide, your instincts telling you to find cover, though just as quickly yelling at you to _fucking run!_

Your body is gelatin though, and you’re unable to even stand without support – the closest support being Kylo Ren. You shoot down the idea, _God no he would not appreciate being used as support, he’s not a wall, oh Jesus, fuck, what’s happening right now, oh God oh no what the fuck_ _whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck._ You cut yourself off, body trembling as you once again curl in on yourself.

“Leave.”

The sound of his voice, deep and synthesized by the mask, makes you jerk, and you glance up with wide eyes at him, only to realize that he’d addressed the Stormtroopers, who gratefully departed, stumbling against each other in their attempts to leave as quickly as possible. _They don’t want to disobey, don’t want to anger their Commander, everyone knows what happens when he’s angry, oh God, was he angry? Shit, he must be, you knocked into him, on his ship, well, not his ship, but . . . Oh God, oh no, shit, I’m alone with him, fuck I’m going to die oh God no, no this isn’t how I want to die-_

He turns, as your mind mutes itself, your breath holding itself as you stare straight ahead, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. The black fabric of his robes settles, and he’s still for a moment before crouching, the mask level with your face. Your already frozen breath hitches, eyes automatically latching onto the visor, blacker than anything else. You can feel his stare on you, scanning and assessing.

“Who are you?” He finally asks, voice quiet as his mask tilts slowly in curiosity.

Oh shit, he had done the same thing when he had first come across Poe, only this time, he had spoken.

Your lips part, open, closed, open, closed, as you fumble for words. Your throat is drier than a desert, a raspy breath leaving you. _He wants to know who I am. Who am I, what’s my name, oh God, what do I do I can’t talk, I think I’m going to be sick . . ._ As if he had heard you, Kylo Ren shifts back the slightest bit, and the air in your lungs stutters in reaction to his movement. _Can he . . . Can he hear me? Can he-oh shit he can hear me!_

You panic, and slap up a wall in your mind, willing it to be made of the strongest materials. You don’t know how to keep him out of your mind, don’t even know if it’ll work, however, you do it anyway, and just for extra measures, you envision a dial, and turn it as if to lower the volume of your thoughts.

Kylo Ren’s head shifts the slightest bit once again, tilting slightly deeper as if in curiosity. Your mind flits back to his question, and you think that he’s still hinting at your name, when really, there’s another question on the tip of his tongue _. How did you do that?_ Unbeknownst to you, you swallow and stutter out, “Y/N! M-m-my n-name is Y/N, sir, it’s Y/N!”

“Why are you here?” He asks after a moment of studying you, and you blank out.

“I . . .” Breath hitched in your throat, you try to think of an explanation. _Oh, you know, I just went to a magic store and had this woman dig in my mind, she told me to open my mind and I opened a box of Star Wars and suddenly, POW! Here I am!_ A hysterical bubble of laughter leaves you at the awful explanation your mind provides you, before the tears spill and dribble down your cheeks. “I don’t, I don’t know . . . I-I, one minute . . .”

You trail off, completely at a loss of words as you considered his question. _Why_ were _you here?_ Before you can answer, a strict set of footsteps echoes down the hall, from the same direction of the Stormtroopers. Through teary eyes, you saw a familiar sight; pristine uniform, stark ginger hair, stern face. General Hux.

“Ren, what is going on?” He hisses, not stopping until he was a step away from the Knight. He glances down at you, and you can feel the heavy weight of his disgusted stare before it shifts to Kylo Ren, tense as he waited for an answer. He stared at you through the visor for several moments longer before snapping up to his full height and turning to face the general.

“Nothing that concerns you.” He snaps, and you wince at the tone, filled with frustration and challenge. Hux sniffs at him, glare strengthening as he chooses his next words.

“I believe it does concern me. Why are two of my officers dead?”

For the umpteenth time, your breath hitches, and you lean to the side ever so slightly to see the bodies, sprawled out on the ground, their white armor gleaming save for the single smoking rings in them. Shock begins to bubble away in to panic, and you realize, you had killed them. “I . . . I-I k-killed . . .” You stutter quietly, unaware that the two men above you could hear. “. . . Th-they shot a-and . . . Their b-blasters . . . “

More tears spill down your cheeks. You had _killed_ them. “W-what’s going on?” You ask again, hiccupping as you survey the area with blurry eyes. “What the f-fuck is g-going on? Th-they’re no-t really d-dead, r-right? They . . . They-re only act-actors? This . . . This is just a p-prank . . .” You nod to yourself, curling your trembling arms around your legs, drawing them close to your chest as you whisper reassurances to yourself. “Y-yeah, a prank . . . Just a prank . . .”

Kylo turns from Hux, his robes skimming the bare skin of your hand, and you jump, yelp lodged in your throat as you tighten your grip on yourself. He crouches once more; you can feel the shift in the air despite not looking at him, and your trembling picks up again. “This is no prank.”

The quiet murmur of his voice is distorted by the synthesizer, and a low whine leaves you as a shudder makes its way down your spine. “Oh . . . Oh, God, have I . . . I’ve been d-drugged . . .” You choke out. “Th-that woman . . . She drugged m-me . . .”

Kylo frowned behind his mask. He was just as confused as you. _What was this? A test_? He had gone to you with the intentions of a fight upon feeling the shift in the Force, only, instead of being confronted by an all-powerful Force wielder, he had found a trembling girl in the most unusual clothes on the floor, surrounded by a torrent of blaster bolts. The Force had practically rolled off her in waves, it was almost tangible, he could _feel_ it, and his suspicious yet awed mind could only supply that it was a test, to keep his guard up.

Yet he could hear her thoughts, could feel her fear and confusion, and when she had scrambled back and collided with his legs, something within him clicked. No, this could be no test, this was something different. Very different.

The Knight’s head tilts to the side as he watched you stutter to yourself. At one point, he could hear your thoughts, when you had been peering up at him with impossibly wide eyes; there had been fear, twisted with admiration that made him pause. You knew who he was; your mind supplied his name as it spilled from your lips, and what he could do. He heard as your panicked mind threw up the fact that he could read minds, knew what you were thinking, and within a moment, your thoughts were suddenly silent. It took him a second to realize that you had blocked him.

Without warning, a leather-clad hand reached out to press fingertips to your temple, and darkness consumed your panicked mind, your unconscious body slumping forward to be caught by Kylo Ren’s awaiting arms. He adjusted his grip on you to cradle your form to his chest, and without a word to the silently fuming general behind him, Kylo Ren walked away.

No, this was no test; this was something much greater . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit have like nine chapters of this fic already written (and I wrote them in the space of like 3 days kill me now) but I'm gonna take my time with uploads because editing and stuff. Also I like to make people wait.
> 
> Enjoy - leave kudos and comments and whatever else you people can leave!


	3. Chapter 3

When you awaken, it’s because of the throbbing pain bouncing around inside your skull. You had never felt a headache quite this bad, and you briefly wondered whether you were having a migraine before realizing that you didn’t have any of the other symptoms. With a groan, you sit up – well, you attempt to; you only manage to raise your head so far before you find yourself restrained. Glancing down, you see your wrists restrained by wide metal cuffs, as are your ankles, and your head drops back down onto the cool metal surface with a thud, a panicked whine escaping past your dry lips.

Your tongue darts out to run across your lip as your head swivels around, trying to figure out where you were, only to freeze when it hits you.

_Holy fuck I’m strapped to the same table that Rey was._

Suddenly, another wave of panic washes over you, and you begin to wrench your arms in a desperate attempt to break free, even though you knew it was futile – if Rey couldn’t escape like that, then how could you? Slumping against the table, you let out a sigh, eyes slipping closed before you open them again, slowly as the pain in your head comes back full-force. A strained grunt leaves you, feeling as if your brain was being slowly compressed, eyes scrunching up tight as you fight to breathe through the agony.

It leaves suddenly, the pressure relieving itself, and your body sags as you gasp for air. After a minute of trying to catch your breath, your tired eyes open, head lifting to lean back against the cool metal, only to freeze when you catch sight of a dark, looming figure. Kylo Ren. _Had he been there the entire time?_ You wonder distantly; it doesn’t take a genius to piece the two facts together to realize that he had been the cause of the ache in your head.

“Wh . . . What . . .” You begin, brow furrowed as you struggle to piece together a sentence.

“You seem terribly confused.”

You frown deepens at his statement. Of course you were confused, what had just happened to you was _not_ normal. However, between the pain still echoing throughout your mind and the lack of answers you were receiving, a rush of anger was quickly overriding your confusion, filling your veins and making your breaths shallow as you snap, “Of course I’m confused.”

Silence fills the room as he takes a step towards you; your breath automatically catches, however, you don’t relinquish the frown on your face that was slowly morphing into a glare. “You’re incredibly loud when you dream.” He murmurs, settling a foot in front of you. A blush flares up in your cheeks – _what the hell was he talking about? Who dreams loud? What . . ?_ When you refuse to respond, he continues. “As soon as you lost consciousness, I saw the truth, what happened.”

“Well, care to explain?” You’re pleased to note that the tremble in your voice is barely noticeable. Despite your sarcastic tone, you’re eager to hear an explanation, and you wait with bated breath for him to elaborate.

“You’re strong with the Force.” He simply says, his hand reaching up to graze your cheek with the tips of his leather gloves, though you jerk away at the memory of him reaching up before, moments before you had passed out.

“I . . . You, I . . . What?” You struggle to process his words, your mind still caught between the belief that this was all an elaborate, twisted prank, and the fact that you were, in fact, restrained to a table in an interrogation cell onboard the Finalizer. “Listen, I-I really, _really_ don’t know what’s going on, so if you c-could just . . . just tell it to me straight – what’s going on?”

His head tilts to the side slowly, the same way he had before, and you squirm under his gaze, unable to break your gaze away from where it had been locked onto his visor. “You really don’t know, do you?” He finally murmurs, brushing his hand against your cheek again before pulling away to pace a slow circle around you.

Your mind flips to the scene of Kylo Ren interrogating Rey, how he had tried to pull the information from her mind using the Force, and you understood her pain at resisting the Force; your head _still_ hurt. You jump in your restraints when Kylo Ren is suddenly by your side, mask impossibly close to your cheek. “How do you know of this?”

A gulp. He was inside your head again, could hear your thoughts, and you hurried to throw the wall up again. “Wh-what do you mean?”

He’s so close that you can hear his breath ghost through the synthesizer, how his breathing doesn’t falter when he says his next words. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“I-I, you mean, the thing with Rey? It’s a scene from the film, I watched it, I-“ You cut yourself off, not sure where you were going with your words.

“From a film . . .” He echoes, deathly still before pulling away to stand before you again. “I saw it in your mind, when you were dreaming, how you came to be here, on board the Finalizer. The woman who told you to open your mind . . . The confusion as you moved from one world to the next without a thought . . . Are you even aware that you’re in a different galaxy?”

Your mind briefly flickers back to an article you had read once before, explaining whether Earth existed in the ‘ _Star Wars’_ universe, how it was possible that the two galaxies co-existed, and then to the phrase, ‘ _A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . ._ .’, and the fact settled within you that you weren’t even in the Milky Way.

“I, this . . . This is c-crazy . . .” Your voice cracks partway through, a sob catching in your throat.

“No, not crazy.” Kylo Ren counters, before whispering, “This is incredible.” He reaches forward once again to capture your jaw in a surprisingly gentle grip, slowly tilting your head from left to right before he speaks again. “I’m just as speechless as you are, on how this came to be. How it was possible for the Force to reach out across the galaxies . . . How it’s possible for someone as . . . small, as fragile as you to contain so much power . . .” He shakes his head the slightest bit, pulling away and reaching up to remove his helmet as he breathes once more, “ _Incredible_ . . .”

You’re taken aback by his tone of voice, the air stuck in your lungs, however, your breath is completely stolen when he lifts the helmet off. He takes his time, first revealing the pale, smooth skin of his sharp jaw, then his full, richly-tinted lips, then his high cheekbones and strong aquiline nose, and then, finally, his eyes, dark and relaxed in his wonder over you. He settles his helmet at his side, though your eyes are caught on the way his thick hair frames his face. It’s only when you glance over his face again that you notice the scar, rigid and pale pink despite being healed. You pay it no attention though, your eyes instead locked on his, and, if it were possible, it was even harder to look away than when you were staring at his visor.

_Oh, boy . . ._

You shake yourself from your thoughts, checking the wall in your mind for any cracks, hoping that he didn’t catch your thought. If he wasn’t handsome enough on screen, being in person with him, face to face, he looked _ethereal_. “Uh . . .”

His lips twitch, as if fighting off a smirk, and you bite the inside of your cheek as he continues to study you. “Tell me, how are you so capable of wielding the Force, yet so clueless?” He wonders, and despite the bite in his comment (unintentional on his behalf), you hold back a shiver at the sound of his voice, unaltered by his mask.

“Uh . . . I, uh, you could say that I’m a, uh, a fan . . .” You swallow, throat dry as you try to think of how to answer, unsure yourself. “I mean, I’ve been watching ‘ _Star Wars’_ for as long as I can remember, so as a child I was always pretend to, you know, use the Force and stuff . . . I mean, it was only make-believe . . . And I like to read the theories on the Force, so, I, I guess that helps? Wait . . . What do you mean ‘wield the Force’?”

He watched you the entire time, taking note of how you relaxed the slightest bit as you spoke of this ‘ _Star Wars’_. His own brows drew together the slightest bit when you questioned him, momentarily confused. Were you not aware that you were using the Force? His gaze skimmed over your face, taut with the struggle of trying to understand the situation. From what he gathered from your dream, you had been able to use the Force from across another galaxy, to _travel_ from another galaxy – had seen it himself the way you held off the energy bolts from the Stormtrooper blasters – and when he pushed further in an attempt to uncover more information, he was met with resistance, yet still, you failed to realize just what you were doing.

“I see . . . You require time to adjust to the situation at hand.” His head inclines before he reaches up to press his fingers to your temple. “Rest.” He murmurs, voice strangely tender, and, despite your mild struggle to fight against it, you can feel the exhaustion set in, your eyes slipping closed as the weight of unconsciousness crashes down on you.

Kylo Ren stands for a moment, merely staring at your sleeping face, before putting his mask on and leaving you, the question of how something so fragile and at peace could contain so much power buzzing in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl this is probably the most unfunny fic I've ever written? Like 90% of all things I write are made up of puns or sarcasm, but I'm really struggling to do that with this fic? 
> 
> oh well, leave them comments and kudos and everything - it's motivational af


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a spontaneous update because I just managed to spew out another chapter in the past two hours.  
> also it's nearly 1 AM and I can no longer make good decisions at this time

When you wake up for the second time, you’re aware of the fact that you’re no longer strapped down to a table. Instead, as you shift slowly, you find yourself to be on a bed, soft and forgiving against your tired form. You also notice that you’re no longer restrained, and you blink open sleepy eyes to stare down at your freed wrists, a ring of dark bruises forming like bracelets from where you had initially struggled.

You begin twisting to the side to roll out of the bed, only for your body to lock into place when you hear voices. Glancing about the room in an attempt to locate the owners of said voices, you fail to see anyone, though when you actually focus on their words, it becomes all too apparent who’s talking.

“. . . I’m still struggling to accept the fact that _she_ is the cause of the influx in the Force.” Hux sneers, twisting the word ‘she’ like an insult. As if on cue to prove his point, your body turns just that little bit extra, and without warning, you fall out of the bed, landing on the hard floor with an _oomph!_ For a moment, you’re breathless from the impact, before a low whine crawls from you as you push up into a sitting position with weak arms.

“You would say that, _General_. You lack Force-sensitivity.” You catch Kylo Ren hiss, and you glance curiously over the edge of the bed in the direction of the open doorway, where their voices were slipping in. “I’ve never come across someone so powerful, not even-“

Your brow dips as he cuts himself off, and you briefly wonder what he was going to say, before you hear footsteps growing louder, and you scramble to stand up, dropping down onto the bed just as Kylo enters. Your gaze flickers from his mask to behind his shoulder, where an irritated General Hux came into view, icy eyes blazing as he glared at you.

“You are awake.” Kylo Ren stated, and you nodded slowly.

“Yeah, uh, I am.” You stare at him in confusion, waiting for him to speak, only he doesn’t, making you fidget nervously on the bed. Hux breaks the silence with an irritated sigh, stepping next to Kylo to pin you directly with his scornful gaze.

“Are you responsible for the shift in the Force?” He snapped out, though you don’t know how to react. Were you? Your shoulders lift in a meek shrug in reply, mouth going desert-dry. His fists clench slowly at his sides, and you realize that he probably wanted a verbal response.

Clearing your throat, you swallow several times before gathering the courage to speak. “I-I, um, I don’t know . . . General, Sir . . .” You avoid his eyes, instead shifting back to look at Kylo Ren. Despite the still-present nerves fluttering in your stomach, you had settled somewhat, no longer as unnerved with his visor trained on you. Or maybe you were still just as scared, and that it only seemed weaker when compared to the flaming glare of the red-haired general.

His face tightens, and you’re sure that you see his eye twitch before he turns on his heel and strides away without so much as a ‘ _Ren’_ thrown over his shoulder. You hear a door slide open and closed, and it’s only then that you figure out where you are – Kylo Ren’s room. You stiffen on the bed at this realization hits you, shifting from a position of faux-comfort to one that made it easy to leap of the bed and run should the need arise.

Kylo Ren reaches up to remove his helmet, the click of the latch echoing around the bare room; said room was minimalistic to say the least, with only a bed in the center, a wardrobe in one corner, and a chair set in the other. Along the wall opposite the bed were three doors – the one on the end, in which Kylo loomed like a formidable shadow, the one on the other end, which you assumed to be the refresher, and the one in the center. Without having to say anything, you somehow knew exactly what was beyond that door, could almost _taste_ the darkness that permeated the air, as if it were calling out to you . . .

Darth Vader’s helmet.

The sound of Kylo’s helmet being set down on the chair makes you jump – you hadn’t even heard him move. His gaze had yet to shift from you, had watched your eyes wander about the room as you took everything in. The Knight of Ren’s brow dipped for a fraction of a second when he saw you jolt; he was aware of the fact that you knew of him, had taken a look inside your unconscious mind as it dreamed,  yet he was still at a loss – just _how_ did you know? You were from an entirely different galaxy; the power of the First Order only reached so far . . .

“You spoke of films.” You nod hesitantly at his statement, unsure of what his point was and how to respond, though after a pause he continued. “You have seen the past as clear as if you were there yourself. How is this possible?”

Air whistles into your lungs as you take a breath, collecting your thoughts as you try to figure out how to explain. “Well, uh, on Earth – where I come from – ‘ _Star Wars_ ’ is uh, well, it’s a franchise, actually. They tell the story of the struggles between the dark and the light, um . . .” You struggle, twisting your fingers together anxiously. “Basically, it was just a story made up; it’s supposed to be entertainment, not, uh, not like, a historical documentary or something. . .” You bite your lip, glancing away when Kylo makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

“And is it entertainment?” He asks, leaving you at a loss for words. How were you supposed to respond? Clearly that was a trick question! Instead, you shrug stiffly, lips sealed as he takes a leisurely step towards the bed. “How do you perceive this. . . ‘ _Star Wars_ ’?”

“W-well, like I said earlier, I grew up on the films, so . . . I hold it close to my heart. It’s important to me . . . It’s helped me to become the person I am today, it’s what got me . . . here . . .” You trail off, jaw clenching as the fleeting thought of ‘ _would I be in this situation if I had never watched_ ‘Star Wars’ _?_ ’ passed through your mind.

“I see.” He’s quiet for some time, gradually making his way closer until he stopped at the foot of the bed, stoic face turned in the direction of your own face, tight with anxiety. “What’s your name?”

You blink at the question, eyes darting around in suspicion before you answer, voice low and hesitant. “Y/N . . .” He nods once in acknowledgement, testing your name out on his tongue, and you can’t stop the shudder that runs up your spine at the way your name rolls in his mouth.

He looms, caught between looking menacing whilst at the same time trying to create a welcoming atmosphere. _An unusual combination_ , you decide, a strained giggle escaping you as you study him. Kylo Ren’s shoulders are tense, his arms stiff by his side, yet his face is relaxed – to an extent; you notice the way his mouth tightens at your laughter, and you can’t help but feel guilty. Despite his reputation throughout the galaxy, as a fan of his character, you knew that he was more than just a machine. He was a man, just barely what with his youth still clutching to him, clinging on to the darkness in hopes of maintaining power, and in turn cutting himself from all forms of happiness despite telling himself that all he needed was power to be content.

You could see it though, the struggle in his guarded eyes as he gazed at you, and after only a moment of debate, you reach out a shaking hand and pat at the space beside you on the bed, tilting your head to the side in gesture to the space on the bed. “You uh, you wanna sit?” You ask, biting your lip as his dark eyes slide from your face to stare at the spot where you hand was resting. Somehow, the fact that the two of you were from different galaxies (hell, even different times, if the phrase ‘ _a long time ago_. . .’ was anything to go by) had momentarily slipped your mind, and you only just remembered the fact after you had offered to him. _Oh, God, what if I’ve offended him? Are the customs different- of course they’re different! Oh, God, what’s gonna happen . . ._

Opening your mouth to retract your offer, a breath of relief washes from you when Kylo stalks to the other side of the bed and sits at the edge, his movements cautious and unsure. It tugs at the forefront of your mind that the Knight of Ren rarely interacted with others, and, whilst one part of you feared that he could attack you at any given moment, the other part of you reasoned that he was probably just as anxious as you; after all, when was the last time that he had sat with another person? Not exactly a question you were willing to ask him at this point in time however . . .

You clear your throat as you try to think up a topic of conversation, though nothing springs to mind. Your fingers twist in your shirt, the silence stretching out longer and longer before you toss out, “So, how are you?”

Immediately, you mentally slap yourself. _What sort of question is that?!_ Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shift, his head tilting over his shoulder ever so slightly to glance at you through the thick curtain of his hair. “I am . . . well.” He settles with, the words sounding unsure. The man is silent for a moment, as if unsure of what to say next, before he returned your question. “And you?”

“Y-yeah . . . Yeah, I’m, uh, well too, I guess, you know, for someone who just jumped their galaxy . . .” Your strained attempt at humor seems to be lost on him, and you glance down, failing to catch the ghost of a smirk that settles on his lips at your answer.

“Are you hungry?” He questions, back still straight as he perches on the edge of the bed.

“Um . . .” Your stomach growls, answering for you, and your cheeks fill with heat as you duck your head. “Y-yeah, actually, I am . . .”

He nods once, standing as he turns to you. “I will send a droid here with a meal for you. I have business to attend.” Before you can say anything, he’s already scooped up his helmet and latched it into place, his long legs carrying him out of the room with confident strides, leaving you alone to wait.

“Okay . . .” You call out, nodding to thin air as the sound of the main door slides open, before closing, leaving you alone to your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys may feel like I've strayed from the classic/original behavior and attitude of Kylo (I'm saying this because I feel that way), but y'all gotta remember that he just met this crazy-powerful girl that literally just jumped a galaxy in less than a second - he's gonna be pretty damn awed


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up on name pronounciation!
> 
> Coen = Co-En ((Pretty simple, right?))  
> Jakobe = Jah-Ko-Bee ((I know that it's literally a spelling variation of Jacob but w/ever I think it sounds more fitting that way??))

Kylo Ren didn’t return to his room until the next day.

As promised, a droid was sent up to his quarters, and had placed the tray of food on a table outside of the bedroom, where you at first picked at it, before realizing just how hungry you actually were and polishing off the meal in record time. With not much to do, you had explored what little there was to explore, skimming the main room and finding another seat in the corner, adjacent to the table where you had eaten; along the wall was a vast collection of books, ranging in size, age and, you were somewhat shocked to realize, language. The shelf stretched from one side of the room to the other, all the way up to the ceiling, and you briefly wondered how he reached them before remembering that he had aid from the Force.

After flicking through some of the books, you had returned them to their rightful place, unsure as to what Kylo would say if he were to find out that you had touched them, before going back to the bedroom to repeat your exploration, assessing his wardrobe (you took note of the lack of variety, everything being black, flowing, and otherwise menacing) before checking out the refresher, finding it to be just as dark and monochromatic as the rest of the ship.

With nothing to actually do, you found yourself extremely bored, and, after slipping off your shoes and removing your bra and jeans after some debating (after all, they weren’t exactly the most comfortable things to wear to sleep, and who knew when you would get another change of clothes?), you found yourself drifting off to sleep curled up in the center of Kylo Ren’s vast bed, the black sheets cool against your skin.

When he did return, it was early in the cycle of the new day. You were still asleep, and so didn’t notice the door sliding open, nor did you notice him step into the bedroom, steps quiet and hesitant when he realized you were asleep. He paused in the doorway as he stared at you, helmet already discarded in upon the table in the main room. Lips parted in wonder, his eyes softened as your dreams projected in his mind, dreams that held no significance or meaning to him, yet still were equally compelling. Without realizing it, Kylo had shuffled closer to you, casually noting just how tiny you looked in his bed, before he blinked, face tightening in an attempt at passiveness as he turned and left.

You wake up with a jolt when you catch sight of something moving about in the darkness of the room, though the sound of a beep reassures you that it was merely a droid leaving. You squint in the gloom, unsure of what it had brought you, wishing that you could turn a light on. As if on command, the room lit up, and you figured that there must be motion-sensors, momentarily forgetting your abilities to wield the Force with just a thought. Glancing over to the chair, where the droid had placed something, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light before the objects register.

The droid had brought you clothing; simple black pants and a black robe, along with fresh underwear. You didn’t stop to think that Kylo Ren had gone out of his way to get the clothing for you, deciding instead to jump in the shower to freshen up instead. You find the shower to be much more technical than expected, and after several minutes of pressing buttons and twisting dials, you finally managed to settle on a temperature and pressure that you liked. Finding only minimal products – body soap, shampoo, and surprisingly enough, conditioner – you had bit your lip before using them; you would rather smell like Kylo Ren than sweat.

Stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you, it was then that you realized that you had left the fresh clothes back in the bedroom. Biting down on your lower lip, you poked your head out of the refresher to glance at the open bedroom door, though after hearing nothing, you deemed it safe to step out and dress in the bedroom. Dropping the towel, you slipped into the underwear, pausing to appreciate just how well they actually fit, one hand running down the side of your figure as if to make up for a lack of mirror.

Bending down to grab the towel, you begin to dry your hair, patting it to soak up the water. The towel muffled any sound, and so you failed to hear the door to the quarters sliding open, nor did you hear the footsteps headed straight for the bedroom. You do, however, hear the sharp, mechanical intake of breath, and you spin around with wide eyes to see Kylo Ren, frozen in the doorway as he stares at you.

Yelping, you scramble with the towel, wrapping it around your frame as your cheeks heat up with a dark blush. He clears his throat, and you hear his fast-paced footsteps as he retreated, though you avoid looking up until you’re certain he’s gone. After, you quickly finish dressing, keeping the towel wrapped around you as you pulled the pants up. You found a wide leather belt had also been brought to complete the outfit, matching the knee-high leather boots also brought, and you secured it around your waist, the tunic clinching in to add shape to your simple, monochrome outfit. After brushing your fingers through your hair and braiding it over your shoulder (you noticed that you lacked a hair tie, and so settled for simply hoping that your hair didn’t come loose) you deem yourself presentable.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly step out into the main room after five minutes of trying to build up the courage, and find Kylo in the center of the room, his back turned to you until you cleared your throat quietly. He turned slowly, at first glancing over his shoulder before the rest of his body followed, stance settling as he studied you from behind the visor; his cheeks were just as red as yours, though from behind the comfort of his mask, no one knew.

“The clothing fits.” He states, but you nod anyway, not trusting your voice. “How are you?”

The question is awkward, especially after he had just walked in on you half-naked, however you can see the way he shifts slightly, head tilting, and you recognized the fact that he was seeking conversation – it was something that you never thought he would engage in, and so you hurried to swallow your embarrassment to answer him. “I’m good, thank you, and you?”

“I am well.” He responded, the same as yesterday though slightly more confident. You see him shuffle again, a mechanical sigh leaving his mask before he asked, “How did you sleep?”

“Um, good . . . your bed is really comfortable . . .” Color dusts your cheeks as you answer, and you bite your lip as you ask back, “How about you, where did you sleep?”

“I had business to attend elsewhere.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls over the pair of you, and your fingers lock together as you prepared to ask another question. “Can I . . . May I go with you? I mean, like, walk around the shuttle and stuff . . . I . . . I was alone on my last few days on Earth, and I think I’m going mad with boredom in here- No offense, of course! I mean, there’s just . . .” You suck in a deep breath to cut off the beginnings of your rambling. “Can I come with you?”

Kylo Ren is still for several moments, and you shift anxiously on the spot as you await his answer, until his head dips. “You may. I have two of my Knights onboard currently, I’m sure they would like to meet you.”

“Um, okay . . .” Your anticipation is washed away by a wave of fear – you didn’t know much about the Knights of Ren, but if Kylo Ren was anything to go by, then they must have been terrifying, completely formidable when together. You nod slowly, and it seems that Kylo takes this as a signal that you’re ready, because he turns swiftly to the door, punching in a code and stepping out as the door slid open. With a yelp, you hurry forward and slip out behind him before they closed on you, glancing behind you before turning back to find that he was already walking away.

With a sigh, you picked up your pace, struggling to keep up with his wide strides as you trail behind at his feet. He seems to take pity on you, his pace slowing so that you’re able to keep up, falling into step with him as you walk by his side. You glance up at him from the corner of your eye, fighting back the blush, though he stares straight ahead. “So . . .”

You bite your lip, thinking of something to say other than just ‘ _so’_. Without much thought, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, which just so happens to be, “How many Knights am I meeting?”

“Two.”

“Oh, wait, you already told me that, sorry. Um, what’re their names? Are they both guys? Are they tall?” Your nerves get the better of you as you begin to fire off questions, fingers clutching at the loose fabric of your tunic as you try to distract yourself.

Kylo’s head tilts down in your direction just the slightest. “They are Coen Ren and Jakobe Ren. They are both male. And yes, they are tall.” His final answer carries a lilt of amusement, head tilting even more to assess your reaction; you bite the inside of your cheek as you fidget with the long sleeves of your tunic, murmuring a sarcastic ‘ _great’_ under your breath. What could have been a quiet chuckle leaves Kylo’s mask, and you glance up at him before looking away, instantly stiffening at the sight of Stormtroopers at the end of the hall.

His brow furrows in concern behind his mask, and he fumbles for a moment before saying, “They’re Force-sensitive; Coen said that he felt your presence before he even boarded the Finalizer.”

Whilst Kylo thought that his words would bring reassurance to you, you only stiffened further, back tensing. “Am I . . .” You pause to swallow, breath shallow as your voice dips in volume. “Am I really that, um, powerful?”

“Yes.”

“Oh . . .”

“When you entered this galaxy, you sent out a shockwave of power so great that the inhabitants of the outer rim felt it.”

“ _Oh_ . . .”

Kylo Ren glances down at you again, takes note of the way your face pales at this new information, and silently curses himself. Clearing his throat, Kylo wonders whether to change the subject, but after thinking over his lack of conversational skills, he decides to just drop the entire idea of talking altogether.

The two of you pass by ‘troopers, some in ranks and others alone or in pairs, marching down the hall. They steer clear of Kylo Ren, giving the two of you a wide berth as they pass, though you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you feel more than one pair of eyes on your back.

“Um . . .” You begin after several minutes of silence. “Can we, can I grab something to, um, eat?”

The Knight of Ren pauses in his steps for only a moment before taking a sharp turn down a hall, leading you to the closest mess hall. Silence falls over the full room like a tidal wave; it’s around lunch time, and it’s packed. If you thought that the stares you felt walking down the hall were bad, it felt ten times worse in the crowded room; at least a hundred pairs of curious, fearful eyes subtly pinned to you. Feeling the weight of the stares, you subconsciously step closer to Kylo; feeling the heavy fabric of his robes brushing at your leg had you relaxing slightly, and you avoided making eye contact with anyone as the two of you headed to the food.

The queue parted like the Red Sea, the fear and respect that Kylo commanded working to his advantage as he stopped to stand behind you when you reached the food. “Pick.” He murmured, and your nose scrunched up as you studied the dubious contents of the trays and pots. _What do I choose, what do I choose, oh God, what if I’m allergic or something . . . Wait, is that even food in there. . ?_

Your rambling thoughts are cut off when an arm stretches out next to you, covered by a black sleeve. One leather-clad finger points at a specific pot and you nod in hesitant thanks as you repeat the gesture to the server, who dishes you a generous portion of the mystery food and hands it to you on a tray. Taking said tray with trembling hands, you shuffle away from the line, pausing when you realize there’s nowhere to sit. You’re biting on your lip for only a moment before a table is cleared by scrambling ‘troopers, carrying their half-full trays away for you to sit.

Kylo Ren sits opposite you, mask in line with your face as he watches you pick up a spoon to poke at the food suspiciously, watching as it moved about on the plate. “It’s not poisoned.”

“You say that, but I don’t see you with a plate of this _stuff_ in front of you.” You mumble, nose wrinkling as you glance up at him.

“Believe it or not, that’s the best dish that they serve in these halls.”

A quiet groan leaves you as you go back to pushing the suspicious food about, before some scooping up and shoving it in your mouth, shrugging slightly at the bland taste. “If that’s the best then I don’t even want to _think_ about what the worst could be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly early update!  
> Also, I have up to chapter 16 either written or planned so, yeah . . . 
> 
> leave them kudos and comments bc I like talking to you guys and everything!


	6. Chapter 6

After managing to stomach half of the meal, you stood up, tray in hand, and scanned the room before scurrying over to the waste dispenser, keeping your head low to avoid any eye-contact that was sure to occur. You turn around to head back to the table, only to find that Kylo Ren is halfway across the mess hall already. Picking up your pace, you fall into step with him just as the two of you leave the room, allowing the remaining ‘troopers to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The pair of you returned to your original course, walking in the assumed direction of the Knights of Ren. As you got closer, to took note of the fact that you saw more ‘troopers, as well as higher-up officers, their uniforms almost as sharp and pristine as that of General Hux; clearly he had high expectations of his officers. As you get closer, you become aware of a shift in the air, goosebumps rising along your skin as you shiver at the sensations, and you cross your arms to rub at the skin.

Kylo Ren notices your reaction, his head inclining as he glances at you. “You can sense them.”

“I . . . What?”

“My Knights. You can sense them.” Kylo stops suddenly, and it takes you a moment to realize. When you do, you turn around to face him, brows drawn together as you wondered why he had stopped. “I want you to lead the way.”

“But I don’t _know_ the way . . .”

“Use the Force. Let it lead you to them.”

You stare up at him in an attempt to read him, to try and figure out his intentions, however he gives off no clues, the dark void of his visor pointed at your face as he drilled you with his gaze. With a quiet sigh, you bite at the inside of your cheek before turning around with a determined nod, hesitantly leading the way.

You imagined reaching out, could feel the tendrils of the Force uncoil and stretch to seek out the two Force-users, latching on to the feeling that seemed to tug you in the right direction. As you walked, the sensations grew in strength, your spine going rigid with tension at one point; you took turns, changing corridors and becoming absorbed in the task at hand to the point where you blocked out the sight of passing Stormtroopers, failing to notice their gazes that stuck to your form as they watched your strides grow in confidence.

Stopping in front of a door, your head tilts slowly to the door before nodding in certainty, back straightening as you turn to Kylo and point over your shoulder at it. “This one.”

The small exercise had soothed any previous nerves of meeting the Knights, and as the door slid open, a delighted smile lit up your face when you caught sight of the two dark figures that stood there. Kylo Ren stepped forward, and you trailed along beside him, your fingers finding the hem of your tunic as the nerves about meeting them began to crawl back in your mind. The memory of Kylo telling you that they were Force-users flashes through your mind, and you pay attention to the haphazard mind-block that you had thrown up; seeing the wall with the eye of your mind, you imagine strengthening it, as well as twisting the metaphorical volume dial to quiet your thoughts should any of them slip through.

A thick blanket of silence settles over the four of you; it had already been quiet when the door had opened, but now, stood beside Kylo Ren and opposite the two Knights, the silence was suffocating. Taking the opportunity to study the two men, you bite back a whine – Kylo was right; they were _tall_. One stood around an inch below the master of the Knights of Ren’s height, the other several inches taller than Kylo’s already towering frame, and you could feel your neck already begin to ache from the angle that your head was tilted back at.

“This is the one?” The taller of the two Knights asks, masked face trained on you as he paces a slow circle around you, a shiver dragging up your spine when you feel the heavy fabric of his robes brush against the bare skin of your hand. “She’s . . . Small.” He mutters, a quiet chuckle leaving him as he finishes his study of you, returning to his original position.

“I’m sure that you think everyone is small.” You grit out under your breath, fighting against the urge to fold your arms over your chest. He hears you though, and the mechanical laughter returns once more to echo about the room before silence settles again.

“I am Jakobe Ren. This is Coen.” The taller man introduces, his hand briefly lifting to gesture between him and his partner. Nodding, your eyes slide away to look at the shorter man curiously; he was the one to have said that he sensed your presence before even boarding the ship. He returns your gaze – you assume; you can’t tell from behind the mask, however you can sense his eyes on you – not attempting to make a move as you assessed each other.

“She is strong with the Force.” Coen finally murmurs, his voice soft despite the synthesizer of his mask. Kylo Ren nods once, his gaze sweeping over you and the two Force-users before reaching up and removing his helmet. The two Knights follow suit, their own helmets unlatching to reveal their faces.

You would describe Jakobe as ruggedly handsome, caught between the years of forty and fifty, with a strong bone structure defined by a clean-cut beard and a crooked nose, most likely from years of multiple breaks. His cropped hair is dark, shot through with grey strands contrasting with the pale blue eyes set in his tan skin. A self-assured smirk tugs at his face; he knew that he was attractive despite being older. Coen, on the other hand, appeared to be the opposite, though equally just as handsome.

Baby-faced and pale, his pale blonde hair is pulled back in a half-bun, though loose strands curl at his temples and frame his face. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his delicate nose, perfectly straight despite his occupation as a Knight. You wondered, for a moment, if he even was a Knight, he was just that pretty, however you shot down that thought when you caught sight of the vicious raised scar that ran down from his left temple, partially hidden by his hair as it trailed down the side of his cheek to his jawline, before disappearing into the dark fabric around his neck. His eyes, darker than Kylo Ren’s, are pinned to you, though he appears to be looking through you rather than at you.

You frown for a moment at the intensity of his stare, slightly intimidated before you feel it. There’s a tugging at your mind, as if testing the barriers, as you narrow your eyes at him before looking away. He continues to test your mind, the tugging becoming a pushing, the pressure causing you to wince as it built up, before you finally turned back to him and snapped, “Dude, _quit_ it.”

Jakobe snickers, taking in your irritated expression before glancing over to Kylo, whose face was blank. “Are you sure she’s the one?” He prods, and you sniff in annoyance at his comment.

“Do you doubt me?” Kylo’s voice is void of emotion, and Jakobe’s smirk slips off his face as he shakes his head. Kylo turns to you, eyes catching yours as he studies you for a moment before saying, “Y/N will demonstrate her abilities to you.”

“Uh, I . . .” You blink. “What?”

Kylo Ren’s gaze is unwavering as his eyes stare into your own. “You were capable of using the Force to hold back a horde of blaster bolts, and in turn redirected the bolts and killed two Stormtroopers, did you not?”

Your stomach rolls at his point, the blood draining from your face at the confirmation that you had, in fact, killed two people. “I . . .” You swallow, knees weak as you struggle to drop your watery eyes from his to whisper, “I d-didn’t  . . . I didn’t m-mean to k-kill them . . .”

“Nevertheless you were capable of such a feat.”

Mouth dry, you fight to swallow before croaking out, “W-what shall I do?”

“Defend yourself.” He states simply, before stepping away; Coen follows suit, standing a foot behind Kylo. It takes you a moment to assess the situation, breath catching in your throat when you realize what was going on.

“W-wait, you want me to f-fight . . . fight _him_?” You splutter, eyes widening dramatically as you whip around to meet Jakobe’s smirking face, before twisting back round with desperate eyes. “B-but, but I’ve never fought anyone b-before! He’s like a fucking _giant!_ ” Your attempt at convincing Kylo is shot down when he nods once, and you spin around just as Jakobe launches a fist in your direction.

With a choked yelp, you narrowly dodge his strike by leaning away, back arching as you throw your head back to avoid a fist to the jaw. You straighten quickly and dance back, feeling impossibly light as adrenaline floods your veins. He stalks forward, aiming to strike again, and you dodge once more, slipping to the side and darting back. The dance continues for some time, him swinging and you dodging, the smirk never leaving his face until you took a chance and kicked out, catching his knee and making him stumble.

A grunt leaves him as the smirk melts away, his eyes lighting in challenge as he steps up the game. Without warning, he charges at you, arms wrapping around your torso and locking your arms by your side. You struggle against the Knight, his hold loosening momentarily as if to tease, however you don’t miss the chance, twisting in his grip so that your back was to his chest and kicking both legs up.

The momentum of your kick weakens his grip, and you repeat the action once more, before curling in on yourself and becoming deadweight. His hold on you broke, and you rolled between his spread legs before kicking out at his butt, using as much strength as possible with your own back pressed to the floor. Jakobe grunts again, stumbling forward before whipping around to fix you with a glare that has you yelping and scrambling back, much like how you did when the Stormtroopers had attacked.

Fear courses in you as he stalks up to you, your shallow breaths hitching in your throat as you push up to stand on quivering legs. Jakobe continues to advance on you, five feet . . . four feet . . . three feet away, only getting closer despite your hurried steps back, until your back collided with a wall. A yelp escapes your throat, and you duck, raising your arms to shield yourself; without knowing, you call upon the Force.

The urge to tug comes to mind, and without questioning it, you do so, stretching a hand out and curling it into a fist, grabbing at the thin air before yanking it back to your chest. Jakobe collapses to his knees with a groan, stiff hands reaching up to clutch at his head as he rests his forehead against the cool ground.

Without a thought, you had used the Force to rip down all of his mental barriers within a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written like 3 chapters and I'm super pumped because one of them was like a really intense fight omfg (I'm writing about a pretty dress rn but I'm not doing it justice aah)
> 
> Remember - comments and kudos yo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might title the chapters but idk what??   
> if you have any title ideas then comment the chapter number and the title idea and if it works out then i'll put it in the notes as like a shoutout or something?

Kylo Ren stepped forward, walking to stand between you and Jakobe as something akin to smugness twists at his features. “Do you still question whether she is the one?” He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm yet still somehow remaining stoic and monotone.

Jakobe grunted, his breath heaving as he pushed up with a shaking arm to slouch back on his knees, his other hand still clutching at his head. Pale eyes glared up at you, tight with pain, though he shook his head slowly before pushing himself up, gritting his teeth as his head continued to throb; it felt as if a planet had exploded within his mind.

You remained pressed up against the wall, wide eyes glued to Jakobe, watching cautiously as his glare faded to a mere tightening of his features. His head dipped low, a sign of respect to you, though you remained frozen in place as you continued to stare. “A-are . . . Are you alright?” You mumble, finally peeling yourself away from the wall to take a step closer to him, your shock colliding with concern as you hesitantly draw closer to the hulking Knight.

He drops his hand from his head, a smirk tugging at his taut lips as he regards you for a moment. “You sure are something, aren’t ya, little one?” You shuffle in place at his words, shoulder lifting in a half-shrug as you consider his wellbeing. He seemed to be fine, though from the stiffness in his shoulders, you could tell that he was still in pain, and you bite your lip as guilt pools in your stomach.

“Sorry, for, um, kicking your ass . . . literally.” You murmur, reaching up to rub at the back of your neck as you shuffle to stand beside Kylo Ren once more, Coen moving to stand beside the still recovering Jakobe. “So . . . Um . . .” Your mind drifts, scrabbling to break the silence before you notice something. “Where’s my phone?”

It was completely random and unrelated, but as you pat at your sides (despite knowing that your attire lacked pockets) you couldn’t help but feel slightly vulnerable. You thought this to be silly, considering the fact that you were in an entirely different galaxy – after all, what could you do, call someone? No phone satellites meant that that was out of the question – however it seemed to be the only thing tying you to your home planet.

Kylo’s head tilts ever so slightly, and you hurry to explain. “Oh, uh, it’s kind of a cross between a datapad and a holopad, I guess. Rectangular, about this size?” You gesture with your hands, mimicking the size and shape. “Has a glass screen, um-”

Your description is cut off when Kylo produces it from the folds of his robes, and you blink before reaching out and taking it gratefully, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’. Staring down at the screen, you’re relieved to find it undamaged, and, after pressing the home button, a sigh leaves you; the screen lights up, the signal and wifi symbols flashing to show that you had no connection. The time and date has also changed, the numbers flickering back and forth as if it couldn’t decide.

Lips drawing down into a pout, you figure that it must be due to a combination of factors, one of those being that you were in a different galaxy, which undoubtedly had different time zones. With a dismissive shrug, you lock the screen and drop your hands by your sides, though your hands are soon fiddling with your phone.

“You are powerful, and in synchronization with the Force, however, you require training.” Coen points out, the beginnings of a smile daring to play at the corners of his mouth as he admires your abilities; you nod, a small smile taking over your face before you pause.

“Wait, what? Training? As in . . . Force-training, like master and apprentice-type training? Like, lightsabers and mind-tricks training?” You struggle to get your words out, eyes wide and darting between Coen and Kylo. Coen nods once, though Kylo merely stares, studying your reaction; before he can speak, Jakobe opens his mouth, an amused chuckle leaving him as he took a step closer.

“Where did you find this one, Kylo? I like her.” His eyes crinkle as he grins at you, pain forgotten as amusement at your behavior takes over. Shifting in place, you’re unsure of what to do – will Kylo reply? Should you? What would you say; the truth or a lie? You weren’t exactly sure that the truth would go over well, considering the fact that it would go a little something like, ‘ _Oh, you know, I just jumped through time and space because of a thought, not that big of a deal that the Force was able to reach out to me from a galaxy several light-centuries away_ ’. Yeah, no, it didn’t sound too believable.

Yet that’s exactly what Kylo did.

“Y/N is from a different galaxy. The sudden influx in the Force was due to her arrival in our galaxy.”

Jakobe breathes a curse as he stares at you, newfound respect shining in his blue eyes as he reconsidered questioning your abilities based on how small you were. “We did wonder what caused the surge . . .”

You scuff your feet on the floor, looking down at them as you did so to avoid eye contact. When no one else speaks, you bite at the inside of your cheek for a moment, graze your tongue over your lower lip, and open your mouth to speak. “When did you plan on starting training?”

“As soon as possible.” Kylo answers immediately, as if he had been anticipating your question. “Coen and Jakobe will be present over the course of the next three days; we will start tomorrow. It will be useful for you to train with more than one Force-user present.”

Nodding, you mumble out an ‘uh-huh’ of vague agreement, trying to appear neutral, yet on the inside, you were screaming. _One minute I’m on Earth with a mundane life and the next, I’m in the world of_ Star Wars _about to be trained to use the frickin’ Force?_ Your mind yells, the words saturated in panic. _How the hell am I supposed to keep cool when the situation just keeps on escalating?!_ Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you feel the awkward tension that you had been trying so hard to keep at bay descend upon the four of you.

Clapping your hands together, phone caught between your palms, you clear your throat to mutter, “Uh, I’m just gonna-”

“Come.” Kylo interrupts, helmet sliding onto his head. “I’ll show you the training grounds where we will meet.”

And with that, he turns and stalks out. You raise an eyebrow at the shift in his attitude, but shrug it off, hurrying along to stand at his side before Jakobe and Coen fall into step behind you. Once you’re back outside in the halls of the Finalizer, you immediately tense up, aware of the fact that you were bound to pass Stormtroopers, however, it didn’t take long for you to relax after watching multiple ‘troopers stumble at the sight of three Knights of Ren; several had frozen up, whilst most circled wide around your group – one had even turned right around to hurry back in the direction he had just been coming from.

Coen and Jakobe kept their helmets tucked under their arms – you had a feeling that they did so in order for you not to feel so out of place – yet they still looked terrifying, their faces stern and gazes unwavering as they skulked down the halls. The robes of the Knights of Ren billowed behind them, like a black fog rolling, their steps near-silent; despite your attire being of the same inky color, you couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place.

For one, you weren’t a man, nor were you tall, which automatically set you apart from their little crowd. Your clothes were much simpler than theirs, and lacked layers, which you felt you needed considering the fact that you were in outer space, which was _cold_. Then there was the fact that you lacked a weapon; Kylo Ren had his cross-hilted lightsaber clipped to his belt, as did Jakobe and Coen, who both also had weapons strapped to their back, Jakobe’s replicating an axe whereas Coen’s appeared to be a rather long, delicate blaster.

It was unavoidable that you felt like a child trying to play at being one of the big kids. Well, a small human from another galaxy trying to play at being one of the big Force-users in this case. And so, with slouched shoulders and a pout, you trailed along, your pace slowing to the point where Kylo paused for you to catch up.

“Training starts at 0700.” He states upon reaching the training grounds. You glance in to find a wide space, well-lit with high ceilings. Several officers roamed about, some training whilst others were just finishing off, sweat sticking their hair to their foreheads; your nose wrinkles at the thought of having to get that sweaty tomorrow, and you silently prayed that the three men would go easy on you – it _was_ going to be your first day of training after all. “Come, I will take you to your room.” Kylo gestures for you to walk, before addressing the Knights. “I will return so that we can spar.”

As you leave them behind, you struggle to keep up with Kylo Ren’s fast pace, practically jogging to keep up. You can feel the change in the atmosphere, his shift in mood so noticeable you could practically feel it, and you bite at your lower lip before hesitantly daring to start up a conversation. “So, Jakobe and Coen seem, uh . . . cool?” He remains silent, his head not tilting in the slightest to suggest that he had heard you. “How many, um, Knights of Ren are there?”

“Many.” He finally murmurs, and you catch sight of his fist opening and closing, the leather of his gloves creaking before he continues. “However, I am . . . close with only six.”

“Huh . . . They must have been the ones I saw in the film then.” You mumbled to yourself, before asking curiously, “Are there any, er, female Knights?”

His head inclines, and behind his mask, Kylo allows his lips to twist up in the ghost of a smirk. “Yes, some, however, only one makes up the six. You and Adira may not get along though.”

“Oh.”

A quiet chuckle, distorted by his mask, escapes Kylo Ren, and a Stormtrooper passing by jolts at the sound, head whipping over his shoulder to the source before looking away nervously. You fight back the urge to bite your lip, warmth filling you because you were capable of making him laugh, despite it being short and quiet, as well as somewhat uncertain. The thought that he didn’t quite know how to laugh made your heart constrict, the pain sharp and sudden over the fact that the man beside you had been conditioned into a machine to the point where he forgot basic human reactions, and so you unconsciously move closer to him, until the knuckles of your bare hand graze at the fabric of his robes with every step.

You become aware of the vaguely familiar halls, and after glancing around, you recognize where you were; outside Kylo Ren’s quarters. Breath hitching, you look up at him from the corner of your eye, shoulders tensing as you pass by his room, before coming to a stop outside the door next to his. He types in the code, allowing you to see, and when the door slides open, he steps back. “A droid will bring you your meal later.”

He turns and begins to stride away, back in the direction that the two of you had come, though you scramble to catch up with him, reaching out to grab his arm but pulling away at the last minute when you remember just _who_ he is. Your hand skims the fabric of his sleeve, and he freezes before turning to face you, visor locking with your eyes. “I, I . . . I just wanted to say thanks, for, um, everything, like letting me sleep in your bed and stuff . . .”

Your cheeks heat up, especially when you realize how your words must have sounded, however Kylo Ren merely nods slowly, as if unsure of how to respond. He stands there for a moment, studying you, before he turns back, continuing his journey, though his footsteps were slower than before, leaving you to stare at his retreating back before walking into your new room.

Kylo Ren dragged his feet as he returned to his Knights, shocked by your thanks; the entire time he was glad that his mask covered his face, which was flushed with an unidentifiable emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also guys i made a tumblr specifically for Star Wars stuff so if you wanna follow it then you can find me at - http://kylo-no-homo.tumblr.com/ ((it was the only thing i could think of that wasn't taken don't judge me omg))
> 
> it's mostly reblogs atm but I'm probably gonna post this story there and post cosplay stuff too. I'll probably also make lil posts for this fic like tasters and you can interact with me and stuff there? yeah?


	8. Chapter 8

Training, as it just so happened, wasn’t quite your idea of fun. You knew it wasn’t supposed to be fun, and you _knew_ it would be tough, however, you didn’t expect it to be _quite_ this grueling.

You had woken up early to the sound of a pair of droids entering your room; one carried a tray of food, setting it down on the table, whilst the other brought a fresh set of clothing, with was placed on the chair. With a groan, you slipped out of the bed, your temptation to sleep for another half an hour crushed by the dread of what would happen if you were late to your first day of training.

You debated the idea of showering or not, deciding that you would do so after training rather than before, and so you wash away the sleep from your face before slipping out of the sleep shorts and shirt that you had found on your bed yesterday to dress in the change of clothes brought by the droids. Once again, the attire was black, and, if possible, even simpler than yesterday’s outfit; a pair of fitted pants and a vest top caught between the lengths of a shirt and a dress. You noted that the fabric had a slight stretch, clinging to your form comfortably as you moved back into the refresher to tie your hair back with a strip of fabric.

Deeming yourself presentable, you sit down to eat, picking over the selected variety of fruits and bread and sipping at the juice, though you silently prayed for a mug of coffee before you went to training – anything to wake you up before you got your ass kicked by three trained Force-users. Three Knights of Ren – including their master. Groaning, you managed to force down enough food to say that you had actually eaten, before draining your glass and leaving your room, leaving your phone on the table.

Walking down the halls, you were immediately aware of the eyes glued to you; by now, news had spread to almost every onboard the Finalizer of your presence – you were the cause of the shift in the Force. Many looked at you with curiosity, their heads turning to follow you with their gazes, whilst others gazed at you appreciatively, their eyes trained on your body, though you couldn’t tell for sure with the Stormtroopers; only the subtle up and down movements of their heads as their eyes scanned you from head to toe, their helmets hiding their smirks. You also see that others were doubtful, could hear them mutter under their breaths and laugh just loud enough for you to hear when you passed by.

Uncertainty filled you as you shrunk in on yourself, arms curling around your torso as you ducked your head to avoid meeting any judgmental eyes. Your steps faltered as you realized that you didn’t know where you were, a blush igniting your cheeks before you took a deep breath to focus, stretching the Force out hesitantly. The first hints of confidence filled you, breathing evening out as you envisioned veins stretching out across the ship, the Force trickling through to sense out the other Force-users.

The ripple that runs through you when you track them down shocks you, though what shocked you more was the fact that you could tell the difference between Kylo and the other two Knights; his presence was distinctive, stronger than that of Coen and Jakobe put together, and though you couldn’t fathom why, you also couldn’t shake the feeling of being connected to him in some way.

You located the training room quickly, and the first thing you notice when you step in is the clear divide; on one side of the room were the three Knights, all dressed in black, whilst on the other side were officers, all training hesitantly, their eyes flickering over to the Force-users as if scared that they would attack at any given moment. Though the area was spacious, there were only a handful of officers, and it only took you a half-second to figure out why – they were terrified of the Knights. As you shuffled over to them, you caught several officers staring at you, pausing in their training, and you pick up your pace, though you wonder why. After all, were you really going to feel more at ease stood before the Knights as opposed to the relatively harmless – albeit creepy – stares of the officers?

Your eyes lock onto Kylo Ren as he steps away from sparring against Jakobe, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Shock coursed through you when you notice that he wasn’t wearing layers upon layers of clothes, but rather only a simple outfit of worn black leather pants and a fitted tunic, the long sleeves tight against the toned muscles. You figured that wearing leather for training must have been similar to running in skinny jeans, however, Kylo appeared comfortable and at ease as he walked towards you, and you couldn’t deny the fact that it made his legs look good.

“You’re late.” Kylo stated as he stopped a foot in front of you, and you wince.

“Oh, sorry, I . . .” You whisper breathlessly, at a loss for words as your eyes stayed glued to his form, before shaking your head and clearing your throat, the urge to explain yourself taking over. “There’s no clock or anything in my room, plus there’s kind of the fact that I’m from a different galaxy, so there’s bound to be a slight change in time zones.” He stares at you for a moment, taken aback by your tone, before nodding stiffly and stepping away to return to Jakobe; you take this as a sign to follow behind. Your eyes slip down, unable to help yourself, and a quiet sigh of appreciation escapes you – leather made his butt look **amazing**.

The other two Knights were dressed similarly, though opted for pants in a similar fabric to you, though you only spared them a glance before looking back to Kylo, eyes zeroing in on the pale skin of his throat and the way his dark locks of hair curled around his neck. Jakobe nudges you and catches your eye, raising his eyebrows with a smirk as he catches you blatantly checking Kylo out, and your cheeks flush, though you roll your eyes and cross your arms as you fight back a giggle, grateful that there were no hard feelings on his side after yesterday.

“We will begin by sparring.” He said simply, turning around to stare at you, eyes daring you to disagree.

You swallow, glancing between him and the other two Knights before murmuring quietly, “I thought we were gonna train with the Force?”

“You demonstrated your abilities to use the Force yesterday. You need to develop your fighting techniques; you would have lost to Jakobe yesterday had the Force not been on your side.”

“Oh, okay . . .” You roll back and forth on the balls of your feet, boots squeaking against the floor. “Uh, should we, like, warm up or something first?”

“No. We’ve already done so. You and Coen will fight first.”

Jakobe chuckles, slapping a stoic Coen on the back as he steps up to you. “We want to see how you hold up against someone your own size.”

Your eyes travel up Coen’s slim form, neck tilting back to stare at his face, your eyebrow rising as sarcasm drips from your tone. “Yeah, because we’re totally the same height.”

He chuckles again, the sound echoing about the training hall as he settles in his stance, whilst Kylo stood to the side, eyes locked on you. Taking a step back, you shift into a hesitant defensive stance before he nods and Coen launches into action. He’s fast, using his slim frame to his advantage as he darts forward to strike you; the hit takes you by surprise, and he catches you in the ribs. With a yelp, you stumble back, immediately dropping to the ground and rolling to the side when he moves to strike again.

Coen’s hand shoots out, lightning-fast, catching your arm and yanking you to him so that your back collides with his chest. The air is momentarily knocked out of your lungs, and when you recover, his grip has already tightened on you, eliminating any chance of escape. Biting down on your lower lip, you draw your legs together and swing them back between Coen’s spread legs, before kicking forward to split your legs; momentum drags you back, and you collide with him, your legs hooking around his until your feet are latched to the backs of his knees.

He lets out an _oomph!_ , and for a split-second you realize that you had literally rammed your ass against his crotch,  the action taking him by surprise, however you don’t let this stop you; with your feet behind his knees, you take a deep breath before yanking yourself forward and inwards, limbs drawing close to your torso. The sudden movement causes Coen’s legs to give out, and he collapses to his knees. Unwrapping your legs from his, you plant your feet firmly on the floor and push back against it, overpowering him until his back was pressed against the ground with you on top, his arms still holding you to his chest.

In the position that Coen was in, with his legs bent and trapped beneath him, he was unable to roll and get in a better position, though he still kept a firm grip on you. You writhe, twisting and fighting against him until your head was tucked underneath him, and, without much thought, you lift your head before driving it down against his throat; you hit the top of your head on his chin, and you let out a groan, however, your move had left him breathless, and he choked, arms loosening on you just enough for you to roll away to your feet.

You wanted to ask him if he was alright, your brow dipping in concern, but before you could, Coen had rolled to his feet like you, one hand rubbing at his throat while the other clenched and unclenched in a fist. With a huff, you blow the strands of hair out of your eyes that threatened to stick to your sweaty forehead, the adrenaline flowing as you bounced on your feet, waiting for him to make another move.

Instead, he begins to pace in a slow circle, as if looking for a weakness. You mirror his steps, trying to maintain distance, before he darts out again, striking you once in the ribs and once on the shoulder when you twisted away to try and dodge. Drawing a sharp breath, you clench your teeth, and Coen’s hand reaches out again, though you duck and grab it instead, twisting in and dropping to your knees before yanking at Coen’s arm; the sudden movement pulls him off balance, and you throw him over your shoulder, stunning him long enough for you pin him down with an arm to the throat and a knee to the crotch, not pressing down hard, but enough to be a threat.

Though it was definitely not the most professional hold, and Coen could easily escape due to his arms being left free, he raised a hand and called for a break, allowing you to climb off with a sigh of relief, your hands resting on your thighs as you breathe deeply.

“Good.” Kylo says, stepping forward and nodding to Coen, who had rolled to his feet to stand beside Jakobe. “You did well.”

Blinking in surprise, you wonder whether the hit to your head that you had sustained was harder than you thought – was Kylo . . . _praising_ you? Sure, he had treated you well over the past couple of days, had been much nicer than expected, what with his reputation as a Jedi killer and all, but for him to be praising you, it was a genuine shock.

“You fought with Jakobe yesterday. We will fight now.”

“O-oh . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i've got an end goal in mind for this fic but the plot is still sketchy #sorry


	9. Chapter 9

“Y-you . . . you’re kidding, right?” You stutter quietly, eyes wide as you stare at him. He returns your stare, gaze unwavering and neutral expression not shifting in the slightest, and you gulp. “. . . You’re not kidding . . .”

It’s at that specific moment that you become aware of the tingles running up and down your spine. Glancing around, you find that every single pair of eyes in the training room was glued on you. You had been aware of their gazes during your fight with Coen, had caught flashes of them between dodging his hits, however, at least then they had had the common sense to pretend to be busy. Now, as you looked about the room, they had all stopped; each and every one had dropped what they were doing to turn and face you, eager to watch the newcomer battle against their commander.

“O-okay . . .” Taking a deep breath, you nod to yourself, trying to build up an ounce of confidence as your mind buzzed. You had seen Kylo battle, memorized the fluidity of his motions and the power and confidence in his blows, and it was impressive to say the least. However, you also knew that he allowed his emotions to get in the way – after all, it was only natural for him to rely on his anger as a user of the Dark side – and, whilst he used this to increase his power, you also knew that it left him worked up, made his actions sloppy and desperate if the fight was dragged out long enough. Nodding once again, you slip into a defensive stance. You could do this, you just had to hold out long enough for Kylo Ren’s control to slip.

Kylo’s mind had been doing something similar to yours during this time; he had watched you fight twice now, and had seen you protect yourself against the Stormtroopers with the aid of the Force. He had analyzed your style, a style which was both messy in technique and inexperienced, yet graceful and free; though you lacked confidence in your actions, you were capable of letting your instinct take over your body should the need arise, all the while being capable of assessing the situation for the best move. Kylo knew better than to underestimate you despite your timid nature and small stature; you were a force to be reckoned with.

When you remain frozen in place, Kylo takes it upon himself to make the first move, pacing a slow circle around you, blatantly scanning you for weaknesses. That was another thing that Kylo admired about you; you knew that you had weaknesses, but rather than trying to force yourself out of them, to turn yourself into something you weren’t, you embraced your weaknesses and that in itself made you all the more powerful. Kylo shook himself from his reverie, fighting back a coy smirk when he noticed your anxious fidgeting, how you were mirroring his actions to keep distance between the two of you.

He _knew_ that you would never make the first move, and you could tell that he knew that fact by the way he moved, his steps slow and sure as he dipped closer to you, only to pull away; he was _playing_ with you, taunting you with every step, the ghost of a smirk toying with the corners of his lips as he waited for your patience to snap. And he didn’t have to wait long.

Whether it was because of the tension that had built up over the days, or because of the anxiety welling within you at the fact that everyone in the room was watching you take on the most powerful man in the galaxy, you didn’t know, however, before you could process what was happening, you were charging at Kylo with no specific intentions other than wanting the waiting game that he was playing to be over.

You strike out at the soft skin his throat, grappling with the fact that it was a weak point, though you fail to take into account just how much taller than you he is, and whilst in the act of reaching up, you find your wrist being seized in a firm grasp by his large hand. It covers the entire lower half of your forearm, and you gulp quietly before trying desperately to yank away, though you have no such luck. Twisting away, you try to break away at a different angle, though this leaves your back open to him, and before you can take another step, he’s pulling your body towards him to wrap you in a death grip.

And just like that, you were stuck.

With his arms coiled tight around your torso, trapping your arms to your side, and your legs caught between the firm grasp of his thighs, you had no chance of escaping. You attempt to jerk up to catch his throat, maybe even his face (though you hoped not; you just knew that harming his beautiful face would be like harming a classical painting) with the back of your head as you had done with Coen, but you find his grip to be too strong, the top of your head stopping mid-way up his chest. Your breathing picks up as you squirm, quiet grunts escaping from clenched teeth despite knowing the struggle was futile.

A quiet puff of breath from above has you freezing, and then stiffening when you take stock of your position; you were – rather conveniently – pressed up to Kylo’s crotch. The information had your blood flowing to your face faster than you thought possible, however, through your haze of embarrassment, a realization comes to you; you could use this to your advantage.

Kylo had ceased to alter his grip on you, though when you had slackened in his grip, alarm bells immediately began ringing in his mind; he tried to convince himself that it was because he was suspicious – after all, at present you were his attacker – however, no matter how many times he repeated this in his mind, the real reason slipped through; he was concerned. His brow dipped slightly at this. Was he concerned for you? As he pondered this, his mind drifted, confident in his hold on you, only to be shocked out of his thoughts when you moved.

It had taken you a moment to control your breathing and to convince yourself to do it, it being making the most out of Kylo Ren’s hold. Blocking out the thought of everyone’s eyes on you, you take a calming breath before shifting your hips back to subtly grind against Kylo, rolling your hips against his crotch. You fight against the urge to think, focusing on his grip on you, and even though a small part of you murmured that you didn’t mind being held like this all that much, a larger part screamed that now was not the time to delve into sexual fantasies about your current sparring partner.

You repeated your ministrations subtly, building up the pressure until the _just_ right moment. Kylo’s grip on you slackens momentarily, his thighs shifting against the growing sensations within him, when suddenly, you make your move.

Yanking your legs out from between his, you use Kylo’s grip on you to your advantage; acting as if your body were a pendulum, you swing your lower body to the left before kicking to the right, using the momentum to twist your body. The sudden action breaks Kylo’s hold on you, and he scrambles to grab you. Without much thought, you propel your body up, rolling against his outstretched arm to settle on his broad shoulders and wrap your thighs around his neck.

The sudden shift in mass causes Kylo to lose his balance, his tall frame wavering for a fraction of a second before he collapses to his knees. He catches his breath, hands reaching up to plant themselves firmly on your thighs in a desperate attempt at balance; in turn, you find yourself winding your fingers into the thick locks of his hair – something, _anything_ to hold onto. A brief thought flashed through your mind; ‘ _This isn’t how I imagined the situation to be when I pictured running my fingers through his hair’_ , and in your panicked state, you don’t realize that you had practically broadcasted your thought to every Force-user in the room, including Kylo.

He chokes, and you can feel his cheeks warm up against your thighs that were pressed to them, even through the thin fabric of your pants. The pair of you are still as you consider the situation, breaths held as you waited for the other to make the first move. You shift in your position atop his shoulders, and he jolts into action, shifting his grip to one of your thighs to yank you over his shoulder.

You twist in mid-air, your back landing against the solid floor and knocking the breath from you. Groaning, you clench your eyes shut at the jolt of pain that shot up your spine, your eyes slowly peeling open to find Kylo standing to loom over you, his shadow blocking the light that would have otherwise made you squint. He takes a slow step towards you, and another, and you watch with a calculating glint in your eyes.

He takes another step, and you kick out, your leg sweeping out to knock against the back of his knees, and for the second time he collapses, hands reaching out to catch his fall as he lands on all fours. You attempt to roll away, but the fall is too fast, and you find yourself trapped under him, his knees at either side of your hips and his palms beside your head. With no chance of escape left or right, you take a different route, knee jerking up out of reflex to make contact with his crotch.

Kylo jerks away at the last minute, and you take the opportunity to slip your legs out from between him. In this position, you realize that your legs would be splayed on either side of his, and so you opt for wrapping them around his waist, the position giving you an advantage. Reaching up, you wrap your arms around his neck and jerk up with as much force as you could muster, the action making him grunt and sit up, though this proved to be a struggle with your added weight, and Kylo found himself falling onto his back instead, your legs unwrapping last minute to straddle him.

You can feel the fight roll of him in waves, taking your actions as a challenge that was no longer quite fighting, but rather a wrestle for dominance. Sitting up, you find Kylo’s eyes to be narrowed, and before you can figure out why, his hands are back on your thighs and he’s forcing you to lay back as he sits up. At first, you attempt to resist, however, feeling his firm chest pressed to yours, you quickly find yourself complying.

A heavy blush settles on your cheeks as he stares down at you, his hands grazing up at your sides to come to a stop at your shoulders, where his wide palms settle and press you firmly down to the floor. Struggling for a second, you soon deflate, your body going still against the floor as the fight drains from you, only to be flooded by the painful awareness of eyes on you.

“Oh . . . Oh, my God! F-f-forfeit! I, I forfeit!” You yelp, eyes widening as you struggle against his grip, panic filling you to tap into the power of the Force, using the boost of strength to pull away from Kylo. You scramble away, skittering back on your hands until you’re a safe distance away to pull yourself up from the floor.

Kylo rises slowly, face blank, and you shrink back, whispering breathlessly, “Forfeit . . .”

The finest sheen of sweat clings to his pale skin, though splotches of color are visible along his high cheekbones, evidence of the exertion. His hair is a tousled mess, strands falling into his eyes, though he takes no note of it. He paces slowly, nearing you, only to change his course last minute to stand beside Jakobe and Coen.

Coen, though mostly neutral, looks mildly surprised, his dark eyes finding your own and holding your gaze for an extended moment before glancing away. Jakobe, on the other hand, didn’t bother to conceal his shock. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stares at Kylo before turning to stare at you, his gaze flicking between the two of you before he breaks the deafening silence with a rumbling burst of stunned laughter.

You can _feel_ the air thicken as the tension spikes, and your nerves shoot up too. Without a second thought, you hurry to the door, not once blinking or allowing your eyes to stray from the vision of freedom, lest you make eye contact with one of the many pairs of awe-struck eyes.

What the fuck just happened?

Did you . . . did you just come to a draw in a fight with . . . _Kylo Ren?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm this chapter's gonna be unrealistic #sorry. But hey, that's what makes it fun, amiright??


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 10!! Lmao that's probably the furthest I've ever got in a fanfic (dw I have up to chapter 23 already, we won't be running dry any time soon)
> 
> introducing everyone's favorite Radar Technician . . .

You rush down the hallways, narrowly avoiding collisions with Stormtroopers, no specific goal in mind except to get away from the shocked stares in the training room. You soon realize that the Finalizer is like a maze, the halls splitting off on each other and winding around to connect again despite the linear layout; you suppose you should have figured this out before – after all, the Finalizer was _massive_. Despite this, you still stumble on, refusing to use the aid of the Force to navigate lest something happen.

All too soon you find the place looking familiar, and you find yourself stood outside of your newly designated room. Glancing around for a moment, you sense no one else around, and slip in after punching in the code. Relaxing against the door as it slides shut, you breathe a sigh of relief, only to realize how hot and sticky your skin felt against the cool metal door. Nose scrunching up in disgust, you peel yourself away from the surface, scooping your phone up on the way.

You’re surprised to find that your phone still had a significant amount of battery, and after a moment of consideration, you shrug and hit play on your music, songs echoing about the bare room as you make your way to your refresher. Adjusting the settings, you set your phone on the counter before stripping off and stepping in, the tension melting from your shoulders as the warm water soothes at your muscles.

It’s then that you realize just how much your body actually aches – now that the adrenaline was seeping from your veins, you were aware of your complaining muscles, and you instantly regret not warming up before diving headfirst into a fight. Groaning, you reach back to try and massage at the aching muscles, though give up halfway and decide to simply focus on getting clean before worrying about the pain.

Assessing the small shelf in the refresher, you’re pleased to find a selection of soaps and products – a much wider variety than that of Kylo Ren’s personal refresher. Trying each one out, you settle on the ones that smell similar to your favorite products back on Earth, relaxing slowly as the familiar scents wash over you, massaging at your scalp and letting your eyes slip closed.

Before long, you’re slipping out of the shower, refreshed but aching as you wrap a towel around you. Trudging out into the main room, you freeze when you realize that you have nothing to change into, before catching sight of something out of the corner of your eye; it was a wardrobe. Curious, you walk over to it, brushing your fingers over the door before opening it, a quiet gasp of amazement leaving you at the clothes filling it.

The majority of its contents were black and simple, made up of pants, tunics and shirts, alongside several robes designed for layering, though you also caught sight of some more colorful and elegant pieces – such as a deep red evening dress that skimmed the floor of the wardrobe, and your mind drifted as you tried to figure out what situation would require you to wear such a dramatic piece.

Transfixed, you run your fingers lightly over the array of fabrics, only snapping out of it when a violent shiver wracks your body. Grabbing hold of a pair of pants and a shirt, you glance about to find that a chest of drawers had also been put into your room, and you tug open the first drawer to find it filled with underwear. Sighing in relief, you grab everything necessary before dropping it onto the bed, drying off before slipping the clothes on. Everything fits perfectly, the pants slim and form-fitting – clearly tailored despite the fact that no one had taken your measurements.

You decide to grab one of the layering robes from the wardrobe as another shiver runs through you, a frustrated huff leaving you when you found that the sleeves were several inches too long, though when you lifted your arm, you found that the sleeve was cut to flare out in the style of an angel sleeve. Dropping your arm to your side, you find the tip of the sleeve to stop an inch below your knee; shrugging, you opt to keep it on, snuggling into the surprisingly soft fabric that draped elegantly to the floor.

Deciding not to bother with a belt – after all, you didn’t have anything to put on a belt, unlike Kylo with his lightsaber – you return to the bathroom to run a hand through your damp hair before scooping up your phone and silencing the music. After only a moment’s hesitation, you type your door code in and slip from your room, deciding to explore the ship rather than sit around and do nothing, even though your body was protesting. You ignore the real reason for leaving your room (that being that Kylo’s room was next to yours, and you wanted to avoid him as much as possible at this current moment in time), instead keeping a watchful eye out lest you get lost.

As you trail down the halls, you keep to yourself, avoiding eye contact yet making sure to keep your back straight, emitting what you hope to be an air of confidence. Stormtroopers and officers alike pass you by, most of which cast you a glance, either of curiosity or awe; half of them had already heard about your successful fight with a Knight of Ren, which in itself was impressive – what they were in awe of though was the fact that you had managed to draw in a fight with their commander, a man who instantly dwarfed your frame to the point of it being almost comical.

Others were skeptical; you could see it on the faces of the superior officers, their expressions twisted as they stared down their noses at you. Though they said nothing, you knew what they were thinking, could _hear_ their thoughts – you freeze, realizing that as the anxiety creeped up on you, you had been completely unaware of calling upon the Force, almost as if it were a shroud to protect you. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect, allowing you to get caught up in the negative thoughts of the officers that passed you by.

Shaking your head, you force their thoughts from your mind, taking a sharp turn down a relatively empty hallway, glancing over your shoulder before continuing on, your steps slowing as calmness set in. You find yourself coming to the end of the hall, which splits off into two directions; you pause in your steps to decide which one to travel down, only to jump at the sound of a hollow bang, followed by a frustrated yell. Biting your lip, you debate what to do, though when you hear a string of profanities, you opt to investigate.

Turning down the hall that the voice was echoing from, you find your steps slowing as you take in a vaguely familiar uniform; a khaki jumpsuit with the First Order insignia patches on both arms, topped with a neon orange tool vest. The person’s head was buried into the wall of the ship, a panel removed and placed on the floor next to a bag of tools that were scattered around, and as you hesitantly step closer, the person removes their head to reveal a mess of blonde hair.

An involuntary gasp escapes you, and he pauses in his search for a certain tool to look up at you, his eyes wide behind the aviator frames that sat crooked on his nose. “. . . K-Kylo?” His eyes widen, and he scrambles up from his knees, rushing to smooth out his crumpled uniform and adjust his glasses before straightening, his hands pushed behind his back as he glances around in a blend of excitement and anxiety. Your brows draw together in confusion, and you take a few steps closer before stopping to glance over your shoulder. “Um . . .”

His eyes flicker to yours for a second, and then away, before whispering quietly, “Is he coming?”

“Um, who? Kylo?” He nods enthusiastically, though somehow manages to only move his head a few inches up and down as he glances at you again. “No, he’s . . . You’re . . .” You swallow, glancing over your shoulder for the second time. “You’re Kylo. Right?”

“W-w-what?” He stammers, eyes wide as his head whips around the empty corridor.

“Dude . . . What’s going on?”

“Huh? I- what? I’m Matt. I’m a-”

“Radar technician, I know.” You cut him off, eyebrow raising in amusement as your stance relaxes. “You do realize this is in the movies, right? Well, it’s a skit, anyway . . .”

He continues to stare at you with wide eyes, completely at a loss for words before he murmurs out, “How did you know my name?”

“I literally just told you? What, are you undercover or something?” Your head tilts to the side, but he simply stares down at you, completely and utterly lost. “Well?”

“You . . . You’re the girl from another galaxy, aren’t you?” You nod slowly, wondering if you had somehow hit Kylo in the head during the fight. You step back in alarm when he steps closer to you, his eyes wide as excitement takes over. “You caused the shift in the Force! You held off an onslaught from a bunch of ‘troopers – man, I hate those guys, they’re real jerks! Oh, Kylo’s training you, isn’t he?! That must be awesome! What’s he like? Have you seen his muscles? Does he have an eight-pack?”

He continues to babble on, and you’re honestly at a loss for words as you process what’s going on. Your lips part suddenly as realization and you reach out to press a hand to his lips; he immediately shuts up, eyes widening before crossing to stare down at your hand, his cheeks instantly filling with blood. “. . . Matt . . ?”

He nods hesitantly, brows drawing together as he stares at you, confusion etched on his face as he mumbles against your palm. You flush, pulling your hand away and drawing it close to your chest as he repeats himself. “What’s the matter?”

“Um, nothing . . . It’s just that, uh, in my galaxy, you . . . you’re. . .” You bite your lip, a sigh of frustration escaping you as you try to figure out how to explain it. “Okay. On my planet, as a joke, Kylo Ren goes undercover as Matt the Radar Technician, that’s why I said ‘Kylo’ earlier . . . I thought you were Kylo.”

Matt’s face goes completely slack, jaw dropping open as he stares out into the distance at nothing in particular. Leaning forward, concern laces your features when you realize he’s not breathing and you place a hesitant hand to his chest, pushing lightly in hopes of snapping him out of his strange trance.  Unfortunately, he continues staring, your touch having absolutely no effect, and you huff in annoyance before raising your hand to snap your fingers in front of his face. Yet again, you receive no reaction, though you become more concerned when you notice his face change color as he continues to hold his breath; in a moment of panic, you draw your hand back and slap his cheek, not too hard, but enough for his head to tilt to the side and for him to jolt back to reality.

“Jesus, Matt, what the hell?!” You yell, eyes wide as you try to keep yourself calm. “What was that?!”

“I . . . I’m, I’m Kylo Ren’s undercover identity?” He mumbles, eyes finding yours; you note with some apprehension that his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and you shift uncomfortably as you nod. “I knew we had a connection!”

“Yeah . . . Um, are you okay?”

“I, this, this is _incredible!_ ” Matt exclaims, an awkward grin spreads over his face, eyes crinkling and glasses lifting as his cheeks move from the wide smile, and you let out a quiet bubble of laughter. Matt reaches up to touch the side of his face, his fingers brushing over the red handprint that had formed, exactly the same size as your hand. “Did you slap me?”

Snorting, you shake your head; had it really taken him _that_ long for the hit to register? “Yeah, I did – you weren’t breathing.”

“Oh, that happens when I get excited.” He mumbles nonchalantly, shrugging, before his excitement picks up again. “Is there anything I can do for you? You’re like, a Knight of Ren now, right? Or a Lady of Ren. Maybe a Lady of Ren . . . Do they exist? I think they exist . . . So, as a Lady of Ren, do you require any, um, assistance?”

Your eyebrow rises in amusement as Matt fumbles with his words, and you shake your head at him. “Uh, no, I’m fine thanks, Matt. I don’t think ‘Ladies of Ren’ exist, but I’ll check with Kylo about it for you if you want.”

“O-oh . . .” He mumbles, cheeks flushing as he glances away, and you smile softly.

“If you want, I can hang around for a while and chat? I don’t really have anyone to talk to besides Kylo, and we kind of, I mean, I . . .” You shake your head, arms folding over your chest as you feel your own cheeks flush. “Never mind. I’m just gonna-“

“No! Wait!” He reaches out and grabs you before you can even step away, his large hands settling on the tops of your arms to hold you in place, before he rips his hands away as if he had committed a crime. “Uh, please, I don’t mind if you want to talk, I love talking! I can talk about anything! Please?”

You giggle quietly as he rambles on, his eyes darting left and right before settling on you. A warm smile settles on your face, shoulders relaxing at the realization that you could potentially form a good friendship with Matt. “Sure, let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matty is my precious bby i love him so much
> 
> also I'm still writing/editing chapters 12,13, 14 and 15 so it might be a while before I update (aka maybe like a week or something which isn't actually that long lmao)
> 
> also also I made a sw blog it's kylo-no-homo on tumblr so if you wanna find me on there then please do (i'll be posting cosplay stuff soon. Hint - it's gonna be to do with Kylo)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is such a fuckin' awkward cutie lmao

_Darkness._

_Everywhere you look is darkness; everything is shrouded in the inky black nothingness of darkness, completely concealed from your curious eyes. Fear of the unknown has your eyes straining to see something, **anything** , terror prickling below the surface of your skin; the hairs on the back of your neck raise as goosebumps form across your bare arms, a shiver breaking out as the hollow air caresses you, heavy in silence as it hangs dead with the lack of energy to move._

_Unbidden, a low whine escapes you, clawing its way out of your throat to break the thick air, shocking it from its stillness. The air thickens, solidified until you’re left gasping, as if you’re choking down smog, the darkness becoming one with the air in order to force its way down your throat to make its home inside you, seeping in with your blood to circulate your body, the weight of the darkness congealing your blood as it struggles to flow through your veins._

_You can feel it settling in your heart, coiling tight to extinguish the flame within, only to replace it with its own light, dark and dull and grey, tinted by the unstable flame of anger and pain. It flickers, haphazard and newborn, and you try desperately to kill it, to hold your breath and starve it of oxygen, but it seems to feed off of your fear, growing in strength and size until you can feel it dancing within, the twisted flames catching at the insides of your ribs to scorch evidence of its residency there._

_As the flames of darkness grow in strength, your fear escalates, only causing the flames to rise higher, until their tickling at the back of your throat, eager to escape into the darkness, either to welcome more in or to ward the rest away, you do not know, nor do you want to find out as you clamp your mouth shut. However, smoke fills your lungs, thick and heavy and suffocating, and you fight to unclench your teeth, desperate for sweet air even though you know that more darkness waits._

_You don’t care though, you welcome the darkness that floods you, and relief follows through as the choking smoke leaves, twisting up into the darkness. As the darkness fills you, calmness settles in place of the fear, a sense of **belonging** , and you become aware of your surroundings; either you were lifting the shroud over your vision by consuming the darkness, or you were merging with it, becoming one with that which once terrified you. _

_The air seems to light up, tinted by a dull red that caught the thick fog and settled an eerie glow over your surroundings. You find yourself in a clearing of a forest, the trees bare and crooked, their branches tangled as they hunch and loom over the edges of the clearing, as if they were encasing you in the darkness. You don’t mind, don’t care about their behavior. You find comfort in their protective nature, despite their skeletal appearances and dark bark, twisted and warped. Upon closer inspection, you find their trunks to be scarred, the edges of the cuts charred and tinged black at being slashed at by the blade of a lightsaber, though you lack the concern to figure out what had happened to them._

_It was as if you already knew._

_Your head lowers to the clearing floor, dry and cracked by the harsh oncoming winter, scattered by the rotted remains of the leaves and dead plants, littered with fresh corpses. Bodies upon bodies, animal and human and alien, bodies of the Resistance and of the First Order, of your family and friends from Earth; they were scattered everywhere. As your gaze scans the area, the calmness morphs, shifting into pride as victory and power spreads through you._

**_Victory_ ** _. . . A voice echoes, crawling through the frozen undergrowth and brushing though the naked branches . . . **This is your**_ **destiny** _. . ._

_Looking around, you survey the area once more, your eyes catching at the red light emitting from your side. Tilting your head curiously, you find, clenched in your fist, a lightsaber; red and angry, the unstable blade crackling and hissing, hungry for more violence._

_And then everything snaps into place._

 

 

You jolt up from the bed, a scream lodged in your throat as wide, panicked eyes are met with pitch black darkness. Hands scrambling blindly, you fumble with the sheets that had twisted around you in your fitful sleep, trying desperately to ground yourself. Tears spill from your eyes, racing down hot cheeks to patter down onto the bed sheets that still clung to you, and you heave in a shuddering breath as you fight back a sob.

Your hair had come free from the loose braid you had tied it in before you fell asleep, and now it clung to your skin in clumps, plastered to your forehead with sweat that left your skin cold and clammy. Reaching up, you push it away with trembling hands, breaths coming out in gasps and pants as you try desperately to calm yourself, even though you know the attempt to be futile. In this state, there would be no way for you to calm yourself. Not alone.

A fleeting thought skitters through your mind, almost too fast to catch, though it came from you and you knew exactly what it was; maybe you could visit Kylo. Your breathing, which had slowly been returning to normal, automatically hitches at the idea, and you choke on air as you push it down. No, you couldn’t bother him with your problems; he was hardly the type of person to run to after having a bad dream.

But then, he also didn’t seem like the type of person to take you under his care after appearing into his galaxy, or the type of person to offer you his bed, or the type of person to ask ‘ _how are you?_ ’. Or . . . maybe he was that type of person, deep down, yet kept it hidden behind that threatening helmet and outbursts of anger, afraid that kindness meant weakness and that wasn’t something he could afford in this galaxy.

Sniffling quietly, you shift in bed, drawing your legs up to your chest as you contemplate for a heavy moment, before slipping out of the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor as you stumble hesitantly out of the room, pausing at the chair to pick up the soft robe that you had worn and tugging it on over your sleep shorts and tank top. Your bare shoulder is revealed as the sleeve slips down, but you don’t bother to pull it back up again, instead simply wrapping your arms tight around your torso as if to hold yourself together.

Tears continue to trickle down your cheeks, slow and silent, and as you punch the code in, your fingers dragging over the key pad, you begin to doubt your decision, the previous events of the day flitting through your mind – the fight, you running off, avoiding him. . . However, as soon as you step out into the hall, your breath catches in your throat, tears freezing in their tracks and glassy eyes widening at the sight before you.

There, stood outside his room with his back pressed to the frame of his door, was Kylo Ren.

He was dressed similarly to how he was in the training room, in a long-sleeved black shirt and loose black pants, though they were no longer leather, and it took your fuzzy mind a moment to realize that he was wearing pajamas. His hair was ruffled, the dark locks sticking up despite the tell-tale signs of him trying to control it with his fingers; he looked tired, his lids heavy as his dark eyes stayed trained on you, and when you shuffle in your place, he pushes away from the wall to stand up straight, though his shoulders slouch and his arms hang limp by his sides.

“K-Kylo?” You mumble, a hiccup breaking his name as it spilled from your lips. His head dips slowly, though his eyes never leave you, cautious and guarded, and he takes a step into his room, glancing over his shoulder in invitation as he waits for you. Without a second thought, you shuffle forward, until you pass over the threshold into his quarters and find yourself swallowed up by the darkness of his room as the door slides shut. A whimper bubbles up and out of your mouth on reflex before you can stop it, the inky darkness of your dream still stuck in your mind, and immediately light fills the room.

You wince as your eyes are momentarily blinded by the bright light, clenching them shut before blinking them open, sleep that had previously been chased away by fear now being chased away by the comfort of the light. The dream still echoes though your mind, the piles of dead bodies etched there, though the image is jarred from your mind when Kylo turns sharply to stare down at you, his face passive despite the remnants of sleep in the soft set of his mouth and the droop of his eyelids.

“I could hear you.” He murmurs, his dark eyes scanning your face cautiously. “Your dream, it woke me up.”

“Oh, I, I’m sorry . . .” You sniffle quietly, reaching up to rub at your eyes as you feel a fresh wave of tears form at his words, guilt filling you. “I d-didn’t mean to . . .”

“It’s okay. I could hear you after, too. When you woke up; you wanted comfort, thought about seeking it from me.” His brow furrows, lips tilting down into a confused frown as he glances away before continuing. “I could hear your doubts, so I came to offer you . . . support. If you still need it, that is.”

He seems somewhat flustered, shifting his weight slowly from one foot to the other as he studies the space above your head. Despite how shook up you still felt from the dream, the beginnings of a smile begin to form on your face as his words and actions register; Kylo was not only seeing if you were alright, but offering to look after you until you felt better. “I . . . Y-yes, yes please . . .”

Kylo’s eyes flicker down to yours for a split second before returning to the space above your head. He nods before turning and walking to his bedroom, pausing and waiting at the door in a similar manner to before, waiting for you to follow. You do so, and Kylo turns around before you reach him; he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to comfort you after a bad dream. It had been so long since had had the experience of someone comforting him after a nightmare, the past years of having to face them alone making him cold at the thought of being soothed, though the piercing fear that you felt was something that he couldn’t ignore, for more reasons than he cared to admit.

You stand a foot behind him, caught between the light of the main room and the darkness of his bedroom, and your anxious fingers find the hem of your sleeve to twist as you wait for . . . What were you waiting for? Kylo clears his throat quietly, raising a hand to gesture to the bed. “Sit.” Following the order, you shuffle around him to sit at the edge of the bed, and he does the same, the bed dipping under his weight as he settles next to you, a good foot of distance left in between.

The tears that you had been holding back had fallen at some point, the tracks catching and reflecting the light of the other room that filtered through, glinting like trails of crystal powder that Kylo found himself transfixed by. He blinked after a moment, shaking the thought away when he reminded himself that you were _crying_ , that you needed to be _comforted_.  Damp palms rub against the fabric covering his thighs, and Kylo takes a deep breath before muttering, “How are you?”

A quiet, broken tinkle of laughter escapes you at his question, and you glance up at him through the curtain of your hair, catching sight of the unease and awkwardness that was spread over his face at the situation. “I’m o-okay,” You murmur, voice catching on a hiccup. “How’re you?”

“I’m . . . okay, too.” He echoes your phrasing, eyes unsure as he stares ahead at his wall. A shiver runs through your body, the chill in the room biting at your skin despite the robe you wore; drawing it tighter to yourself, you sniffle, feeling the tension build up to stack against the lingering terror from the dream. Kylo notices, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye before standing up and walking around to the other side of his bed, where he lifted the sheet and slipped in, though he propped his back up against the headrest.

Tilting your head to glance back at him, you bite your lip at his actions. Was he going to send you back to your room? Instead, Kylo reaches out and pats the space between you and him, and your mind instantly flicks back to before, when you had been in his position and had patted the bed for him to sit next to you. A shy smile tugs at your face, and you stand up to mirror Kylo’s actions, lifting the sheets and slipping in to sit like him, your back pressed to the headboard and your legs outstretched, though you soon find yourself pulling your legs close to your chest.

The silence that fills the room is kept at bay by your breathing, labored from your previous crying and occasional hiccups, though as you wrap your arms around your legs, you feel more tears creep up as the loneliness settles in. You find yourself craving physical contact, just a simple hug, something that you hadn’t experienced since coming here, yet knowing you wouldn’t receive one any time soon, you felt the tears draw closer to the surface.

“Come here.” Kylo murmured, and you jolt at his words, head whipping around to stare with wide eyes as his words register. “Come.”

You shift in place for a moment before shuffling closer, the sheets rustling as you stop a foot away from him to glance up anxiously. Kylo lets out a quiet sigh before shifting closer to you, until his arm was pressed to yours; even through the fabric, you felt sparks erupt at the contact, your breath freezing in your lungs as you tried to process what was happening. Slowly, Kylo’s arm lifts, up over you, before slipping behind you to curl around your form, his hand settling hesitantly on your waist. Air remains stuck in your lungs, and it seems that Kylo is also holding his breath, gauging your reaction.

Kylo Ren was hugging you.

It was, admittedly, awkward, however once the shock wore off, you immediately melted against his arm, shifting to fit your shoulder under his as you turned to rest your head at the top of his bicep. “Do you,” He pauses to swallow, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Do you want to . . . talk about it?”

The uneasiness in his tone is audible, his voice sounding frail and uncertain as to whether his question was alright, and your heart aches in a funny way at the fact that even though he was clearly out of practice with these situations, he was still going out of his way to try. A small smile forms on your trembling lips, and you shake your head, politely declining his offer.

“I can hear your thoughts.” He begins quietly, voice soft and tentative, as if he might scare you away. You mutter a delicate ‘ _oh_ ’ at his words, but nothing else, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I know that I’m not . . . good, with interaction and comfort, but I want you to know that I’m here for you, even if-”

You glance up when he cuts himself off, head tilting in curiosity, though he doesn’t continue, instead hesitantly glancing down at you to meet your eyes, uncertainty coloring the dark pools as he silently pleaded for you to let him know if this was alright, if _he_ was doing alright. Smiling, you reach up to wipe your tears, shifting in his cautious hold to better face him. “It’s okay, you didn’t have to go out of your way and do all of this, but thank you . . . It means a lot.”

He nods once, slowly, your words touching at his heart and making it lurch in a foreign way that had a faint dusting of color make its home across his cheeks, before he glanced away. Settling back in his hold, your head returns to resting on his arm, and you soon find your own arms snaking around Kylo’s waist, at first timid and unsure before gradually relaxing to a natural hold.

Your eyes flutter, feeling your lids grow heavy, and you fight to stay awake, knowing you have to return to your room soon; however, Kylo’s fingers have made themselves at home on the bare sliver of skin at your hip that peeked out from between your shorts and top, his course fingertips tracing the ghosts of shapes that have you relaxing to the point of being boneless, and you feel your grip of consciousness slipping.

Though clumsy, drowsy movements, your hand finds Kylo’s other, which rested by his side, and you don’t give it much thought before you take his hand in yours to mirror his ministrations on your side, your delicate fingers dwarfed by the long digits of his hand. You register this fact with a sleepy grin, taking a moment to stretch his hand out and press your own against it to see just how much bigger it was, before interlocking your fingers with his, leaving your thumb free to continue tracing shapes.

And, though Kylo wouldn’t dare to admit it, he found that he needed the physical contact just as much – if not more – than you, his entire body melting at the sweet, innocent touches of your hand against his own as you drifted off to sleep. The ghost of a smile, diffident and uncertain, finds its way onto his face, and Kylo allows it to stay, if only because he found himself slipping into the most peaceful sleep that he had experienced in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this was up a lil bit later than I meant, but let's just blame that on college lmao 
> 
> also, updates are probably gonna be a bit less frequent (again, blame college. And also blame cosplay)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRy

When you wake, it’s to the feeling that you’re not alone. Peeling dry eyes open, itchy from sleep and last night’s crying, you glance around the dark room. You force back a scream, though a startled yelp still manages to leaves you when you catch sight of Kylo Ren, stood at the foot of the bed as he stared down at you – well, you assume he was staring; you couldn’t tell with his helmet concealing his features. “W-what are you doing here?”

“You fell asleep in my room.” He states, mechanical voice giving away nothing, and your cheeks fill with color when you look around to find that you were most definitely in his room.

“Oh, I . . . I’m sorry.” You avoid looking at him, your eyes instead glued to your hands as they busy themselves by smoothing back and forth over the sheets. Frozen in place, you’re unsure as to whether you should get up or stay in place, though you think it better to wait for him to speak again before you made a move.

“I have decided that you will train in physical combat under Captain Phasma.”

“Phasma?” You echo, eyes widening as the sleep melts off of you to be replaced by excitement.

His head dips once, and your stomach drops at his next words. “I will train you in the ways of the Force; I will be your Master.”

“Y-you . . . You?” Your lungs seize up, filling with a blend of excitement and terror that has you forgetting how to breathe as you process what his words meant. “Really? You . . . you’re going to, to train me?” Once again, Kylo’s head dips in confirmation, and a thousand thoughts fly through your mind, though mostly they were colorful variations of ‘ _what the fuck?!_ ’ and ‘ _is he serious?!_ ’.

“I will take you to Phasma at 0800. You have half an hour to get ready.”

You’re out of the bed before he can finish his sentence, the bedsheets flying up as you kick them away lest you get tangled up. Bare feet against the cool floor, you shiver for a moment before dashing out of the room, only to realize that you didn’t know the code for the door. You skid to a hat, almost colliding with the door and stand there for a moment, though you jump back in shock when it opens without warning. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you find Kylo at the bedroom entrance, his hand halfway raised towards the now-open door; you toss him a hasty smile of thanks before exiting.

Entering your room, you head straight for the wardrobe, tossing off items of your sleepwear on the way before pulling out a simple outfit of black training pants and a shirt. You change quickly, though hurry to grab a thick robe to cover your bare arms when you feel the bite of the cool air, pulling it on as you head to the refresher. You spare your reflection a glance in the mirror as you brush your teeth whilst simultaneously running a brush through your sleep-mussed hair with your free hand, shrugging at the dark rings under your eyes from the previous night’s disturbed sleep.

As last night enters your mind, your actions slow, a warm flush settling in your cheeks as you recount all that had happened. After your nightmare – which you knew you would have to pay some thought to sooner or later – Kylo Ren had _comforted_ you, had _hugged_ you, and had let you fall asleep in his bed, _by his side_. Not only was it a big thing for you, but it had to be a big thing for him too; as you ponder over it, you decide that his lack of experience in comforting others was the reason behind his distant behavior this morning, and with a nod, you throw your hair up in a loose bun before exiting your room, though the events of last night still linger at the forefront of your mind.

You find Kylo waiting outside of his room, though he turns and begins striding off in the direction of Captain Phasma as soon as you step foot outside of your room, and with a quiet huff, you hurry to catch up with him, your pace almost that of a jog before you find yourself by his side. “You will attend physical training every day from 0800 until 1100. From 1100 until 1600 you have free time; you will attend Force training from 1600 until 1700. Understood?”

Blinking at his clipped tone, it takes you a moment to reply with a jerky nod, though your curiosity bubbles below the surface. “Yep- yes, I mean. But three hours of physical training and only one hour of Force training? And why such a long break?”

A static crackle that could have been a sigh escapes the vocoder. “You will need time to rest and restore your energy between training; despite your strength, training will be rigorous.”

“Ah, okay then . . .” Swallowing quietly at the thought of intense exercise, you try to mentally prepare yourself for what was in store for you in the upcoming days ahead, before giving up on the idea and instead deciding to change topics. “Hey, uh, I just wanted to say thanks again, for last night, I really appreciate it.” You throw a grateful smile up at him, only for your arms to fly out when you catch sight of Kylo stumble, as if you would be able to catch him if he fell.

Your thankfulness had caught him off-guard, and he misplaced a step as he processed your words, before clearing his throat and nodding stiffly. His mouth opened and closed several times, fumbling to spit out a reply, before finally settling on mumbling out, “Yes, well, a master is always there for his apprentice.”

A grin illuminates up your face, and a boost of energy lightens your step as you bounce along beside him, though you fight against the urge to playfully nudge him. “And an apprentice is always there for her master.”

Once again, Kylo is unprepared for your words, though he manages to internalize his reaction to a skipped heartbeat and a mere hitch of his breath. Unsure as to how to respond, Kylo simply remains silent, not that you minded; the joy that flowed through you from his words, his declaration of commitment, left the silence comfortable – to you, at least; Kylo was still struggling to understand his reaction to your words.

Fortunately, as the pair of you round the corner, you find yourself walking into a training hall, bigger than the one that you had fought Coen and Kylo in and filled with Stormtroopers, all stood in neat rows that were more than a little intimidating. At the front, in polished chrome armor and a black cloak draped over one shoulder, stood Captain Phasma, a solid grip on her blaster as she turned from her troops to face the approaching Commander, meanwhile you trailed behind, eyes glued to the hundreds of officers in line.

“Y/N.” Jolting at the sound of your name, you scramble to Kylo’s side, fingers twisting together as your gaze flickered between him, the troops, and Phasma, then back again in a loop. “Phasma.”

You nod uncertainly, your lips parting in an attempt at greeting, only for the words to die on your tongue; much to your relief, Phasma begins talking, although her words quickly have your relief morphing into tension. “Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. I hear that you took down three Knights of Ren?”

“Wh-what? Well, the first time it was an accident, and Coen could have easily overpowered me, and I wouldn’t exactly say that I ‘took down’ Kylo, I-I forfeited . . . I’m not trained in combat, it was just . . . luck, I guess . . . Wh-why? What’ve you h-heard? About me, I mean?”

Even with the helmet concealing her face, you could tell that she was smirking. Phasma adjusts her stance, lowering her blaster slightly as she shifted her weight to one foot. “What everyone else on this ship has heard; that you’re strong with the Force and have a natural ability to fight. However, these rumors won’t have an impact on your training; you will train in physical combat alongside my ‘troopers under me. Understood?”

Head bouncing with a jerky nod, you turn to look over your shoulder at the Stormtroopers, eyes scanning their stoic forms and taking in the sense of togetherness of their unit, before turning back to swallow against your dry throat. You weren’t going to fit in. “Uh huh.”

“Good. Now get in line.”

Without having to be told twice, you scurry away to take your place at the end of the front row, all the while casting uncertain glances back to Kylo, like an abandoned puppy that was faithful to its master, despite its master sending it away. Huffing at the comparison that your mind had come up with, you straighten your spine and push your shoulders back, trying to build up an air of indifference despite the swirl of worry within you that was slowly growing into a cyclone of anxiety.

Kylo’s eyes stayed pinned on you the entire time, a swell of unexplainable pride filling him as you took your place beside the ‘trooper, though it was tinged with an unidentifiable emotion – not quite disappointment, more a sense that you didn’t belong, that your destiny was far greater than to simply become a soldier, your strength with the Force solidifying that fact. He stayed in place for a moment, aware of Phasma moving away to address her troops, watching as your eyes flickered between the Captain and him before satisfaction swept over him, and he turned and left without so much as one last look at you, though his mind continued to revolve around you.

Unsurprisingly, physical training is not fun. From what you gathered with how Phasma treated the Stormtroopers, you were training alongside new recruits, though that didn’t stop them from being incredible fighters; your training partner had a knack for landing hits that you just couldn’t dodge or block, and when your fists collided with that armor, it _hurt_.

You were just grateful that you didn’t have to train in armor like the ‘troopers, their added weight and stiffness more likely than not having an impact on their speed and movements, though you did regret wearing a robe; ten minutes into training and you were sweating, the previous chill of the air replaced by a warmth that had your shirt sticking to your back. However, your gratitude was short-lived, because not a minute later, Phasma interrupts your training to pull you aside.

As if she had read your mind – you have to reassure yourself that Phasma can’t use the Force, that she doesn’t _actually_ know what you’re thinking – Phasma comments on your attire. “It’s not suitable for you to be wearing robes when you’re training against someone in armor. Have your partner take you to get suited up.”

“Uh, in armor- I mean, ‘trooper armor?” You squeak out, eyes wide as you struggle to fully process her words. Phasma gives a dry nod of her head, and if she wasn’t wearing her helmet, then you would have been certain that she would have smirked at you; however, she was wearing her helmet, and you couldn’t see her expression, and so with a jerky dip of your head that barely passed as a nod, you scurried back to your training partner to relay the order.

Without so much as a ‘ _follow me’_ , your partner was separating from the rest to take you to where armor was stored and distributed, you trailing behind with multiple backward glances. Being suited up in Stormtrooper armor had to be one of the most awkward and confusing dressing experiences you’d ever had; you’d been handed a pile that you struggled to hold and told to remove your robe – quite a challenge considering you needed your hands free to do so.

Eventually, your partner aided you by taking the armor, and after stripping off your robe, you got to work on the armor; you supposed that it made sense, all the pieces were obvious enough as to where they were supposed to go, but that didn’t stop it from being any less confusing. After ten minutes of struggling to put on the chest plate, your partner let out an obnoxious sigh, dropped the armor on the floor, and helped you; five minutes later and you were ready.

“Thanks.” You bite out, holding back as much snark from your tone as possible – would it not have been easier for him to just do that from the beginning? Either way, you were ready to get back to training, and you weren’t looking forward to it; if you had thought training was hard in robes, it was about to get a whole lot more difficult with the armor.

Scooping up your robe in one arm and keeping your ‘trooper helmet under one arm, you immediately want to rip it off; the amount of movement that was restricted was almost unbelievable _– how the hell are they expected to walk in this, let alone fight?! Maybe that’s the reason why they never hit their target_. . . Snorting at your thoughts, you follow your partner back to the training hall, pouting and adjusting the armor the whole time. It didn’t _quite_ fit, though you had no time to complain, because when Phasma caught sight of you, she nodded and motioned for you to continue training.

With a barely restrained groan, you slipped on the helmet and faced your training partner, hoping that whilst the armor was uncomfortable and restricting, it would at least protect you from your partner’s hits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT AND THAT THIS CHAPTER IS LATE
> 
> also I'm sorry bc idk i'm not exactly happy with this chapter?? eh oh well enjoy


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY  
> also thank you AllessaRen2198 you wrOTE ME A POEM I LOVE YOU AND ALSO KICKED MY ASS INTO GEAR TO UPDATE THIS CHAPTER (was gonna like dedicate this or gift it or whatever but I'm a noob and don't quite grasp the concept of AO3 so yeah sorry but omg ily)

Whilst the Stormtrooper armor had protected you from any serious bruising, it had not stopped your partner from holding back; turns out that when you had been in your robes, he had been holding back. By the time you had left training, your entire body was aching and you were ready to pass out for a month in order to recover. With your robe slung over your shoulder and your helmet clutched in one hand, you shuffle down the hallway in search of your room, feet dragging as you struggle to find the energy to lift them what with the added weight of the armor.

With your eyes struggling to stay open, you fail to notice that you’re slowly veering off course, your path tilting towards the wall instead of a straight line. Your helmet makes contact with something, the impact shuddering up your arm, followed by a loud yelp and a muffled curse. Blinking, you pause to glance around, only for a look of horror to spread across your face when you see a familiar blond head, a large hand clutching the side of it.

“What the heck, ‘trooper-trash?! Look where you-” He grumbles, turning, only to freeze when his eyes find your face. “ _Y-Y/N?!_ ”

“Matt! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I-I wasn’t looking where I was going, I-”

“Why’re you wearing ‘trooper armor?” He mumbles, cutting off your rambling.

“Oh, I just had training. Like, combat training, and it was with Captain Phasma . . . She said that if I was training with her ‘troopers then I should be wearing armor too.” Though they weren’t Phasma’s exact words, that was what you got from them, and it made sense to you . . . even if it was uncomfortable as hell. “What’re you up to?”

“Really?! Captain Phasma’s training you in combat? What’s it like? How did you do? Why isn’t Kylo Ren training you?” He completely ignores your question, completely absorbed by your prior comment as he fires off questions at a mile a minute. His eyes were comically wide behind his glasses as he scrambled to his feet, turning to better face you, almost vibrating in place in anticipation of your response.

“Uh, yeah, it was alright . . . It was pretty intense, I’m about ready to pass out if I’m honest . . . And uh, I don’t know why Kylo isn’t training me, I guess it’s just easier – he’s training me to use the Force though, so I guess he just doesn’t want to spend 24/7 with me.” Your attempt at a joke sends a sharp jolt through your heart for no apparent reason, your brow dipping as you reach up to rub at the area above your heart, only to let out a grunt of frustration when your hand collides with the polished white armor. “Stupid ‘trooper armor . . .”

Matt’s eyebrows raise at your angry mumble, before he clears his throat and jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the wall. “I was just, uh, fixing up some . . . stuff. It’s done now, and I was going to go to the mess hall, so, do you want to, uh . . .” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing away as he struggles to finish his sentence, and you grin, shoulders relaxing as you nod.

“Sure, I’ll come with you, I could do with something to eat before I take a nap. I’m gonna take off this armor first if that’s alright though . . .”

Matt nods enthusiastically, shoving his glasses back up before they could fully slip down the bridge of his nose. “Sure, sure! I’ll just clear everything up and then we can go!” Without waiting for a response, he drops to his knees, scrambling to fit the panel back onto the wall before picking up his tools and dropping them into the bag – in his excitement, he dropped the wrench several times before successfully picking it up and tossing it.

Throwing the bag over his shoulder, Matt pushes up and stares down at you, and you take this as your cue to move. Turning, you continue on down the hall in the direction of your room, Matt trailing behind, all the while looming over you like an awkward gangly shadow. You figured that this must have been what Kylo felt like at times when you followed behind him, and you hold back a snicker as you glance over your shoulder to meet his eyes. “You can walk next to me, you know. It’s kind of difficult to hold a conversation with you when you’re back there.”

“Huh? _Oh!_ Sorry!” Matt picks up his pace, long legs easily eating up the distance between the two of you until he was by your side, glancing down with nervous brown eyes every other second. “So. Uh, conversation?”

Quirking your brows, you fight back a giggle at his awkwardness. “How’re you, Matt?”

“I’m good, great! I’m great. How about you? How’re you, Lady Y/N of Ren?”

This time, you can’t hold back your laughter, and it bubbles out, light and happy despite how drained you felt. “I told you last time, I’m not a Lady of Ren, whatever that is. But yeah, I’m alright, all things considered.”

“All things-? Oh, you mean being from a different galaxy?” For a split second, your mind darts back to your bad dream, the memory of Kylo comforting you bringing heat to your cheeks, but you simply nod and mumble a ‘ _yeah_ ’ in reply to Matt. “It’s okay, I miss my home too. But it’s pretty awesome onboard the Finalizer. I mean, we’re onboard with Kylo Ren . . . He’s so incredible . . .”

Just like last time, he begins to stare off into space, eyes going glassy as his steps slow, and you reach out and grab his sleeve with your free hand to drag him along, ignoring the way other ‘trooper’s heads were turning to follow you – you supposed it was because you were in ‘trooper uniform, minus the helmet, dragging a technician along, though it could have simply been because of the fact that word had gotten round to everyone; you had fought Kylo Ren.

Whatever their reasons for staring, you didn’t care to know; you were too tired and uncomfortable to question it. At some point, Matt had snapped out of his trance and picked up his pace, and you had dropped his arm, mostly confident that he wouldn’t fall back into the strange state. Finally, you make it to your quarters, feet heavy as you drag yourself to the door, eager to strip off the armor and collapse on your bed, even though you _know_ you’ll need a shower before going anywhere with Matt.

As you punch the code in, you become aware of the fact that Matt was no longer beside you. Brow furrowing, you turn to look around, only to freeze when you catch sight of him stood in front of the doors to Kylo Ren’s quarters, lips parted in wonder and eyes wide with fascination with his hand reaching out but not quite touching the cool metal of the door. For a brief second, you wonder how he knew that it was Kylo’s, but then you remembered that he was a super-fan of the Master of the Knights – of course he would know where his room was.

“Matt? _Matt!_ Come here!” You stage-whisper harshly, jerking your arm in a dramatic come-hither motion in hopes of catching his attention. No such luck. With a roll of your eyes, you drag yourself over to Matt’s side, lightly shoving at his shoulder before you push in between him and the door, waving your hand in front of his eyes until he blinked at you. “Jeez, dude, you need to stop doing that . . .”

“Doing what . . ?” He murmurs slowly, still caught in a trance.

“Doing _that!_ Drifting off into dreamland at the thought of Kylo!” When you receive no response, you scoff quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. “Maybe we should just hang out another time. I have to take a shower and have a nap before I go to Force training, and I’m sure you have work to be getting on with . . .”

“Force training?” He echoes curiously, eyes finding yours. “Can I come? Can I watch? I would-”

“Uh, no, sorry. I don’t want you to, um . . . get hurt or anything. Look, Matt, it was great bumping into you again-” You wince at the unintentional pun, subconsciously reaching up to touch the side of your head as if you were the one that had been hit with a ‘trooper helmet, “-but I’m really tired. I know I said that I’d go with you to the mess hall, but I really think it’d be better if I just got some rest. We can meet up again soon?”

The hope tinting your question lifts the dejected set of Matt’s face into an expression of hopeful shock, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you still wanted to hang out. “R-really? I mean, sure. Um, I’ll, I’ll see you another time then.” He stutters out his words, taking a step back and almost tripping over his feet. Heavy blush settled on his cheeks, Matt turns and stumbles away, turning back for a moment to lift a hand in a half-wave, which you return with an amused grin.

Shuffling back to your room, you punch in your code, frowning at how much effort it took to raise your arm, before dragging yourself into the room and to the closest chair, where you dropped down with an overdramatic sigh of relief. Slouched in place, you take a moment to relax before building up the energy to strip off the armor, helmet dropping to the floor with a thud as your robe slides off of your shoulder to pool on the ground in an inky puddle, only to run into a problem.

How did you take off the armor?

Your training partner had helped you put it on earlier, and you had been too distracted by your annoyance to actually pay attention, and so now you were faced with the issue of how the whole thing came apart. There were no visible straps or indication as to how it all came off, and after several minutes of failed trying you throw your head back with a frustrated huff, only for your eyes to snap open as a thought popped into your mind.

Biting your lip, you contemplate for a moment if he would even help you, head rolling to the side to glance in the direction of Kylo’s room – was he even in there? With a half-hearted shrug, you come to a decision and heave yourself out of the chair to make your way to his room, desperate to be free of the damned armor just so you could have a nap, your tired muscles screaming at you to stop moving.

You hesitate when you find yourself stood outside of his door – should you knock? Raising a fist to do so, you jolt when the sounds of destruction fill your ears, the source of the noise coming from behind the door. Panic fills you as your mind throws up a million possibilities as to what could be happening, all of them pointing at the idea that Kylo was in trouble, and without a thought, you throw yourself at the door, knocking and kicking and banging against it desperately.

All sound from the other side of the door seems to freeze, and you place an ear to the door, holding your breath in anticipation, only to scramble back when it suddenly opens to reveal Kylo, his hair a mess and his eyes wild, face taut with rage. You take him in with wide eyes, your gaze darting over him, pausing at the sight of his deactivated lightsaber clenched in one fist, before hesitantly glancing around him to catch sight of his empty quarters, the darkness illuminated by the amber glow of the carved up walls, metal still hot from the plasma blade that had sliced through moments ago.

“Are you, are you okay?” you ask breathlessly, eyes still wide as your gaze darts between the scene of destruction and Kylo’s dark eyes.

“Yes.” He snaps, and you blink, your previous panic being taken over by complete and utter bewilderment.

“Are you, um, sure? Did something happen?”

“No.”

“O-oh . . . Okay then, um, I was going to ask you if you could, uh . . . help me with this armor, but, if you’re . . . busy, then don’t worry.”

Kylo’s eyes narrow as you stumble over your words, the anger toning down into an expression that twisted his face into a sneer. “Why not get your friend to help you?”

“What?”

“Your friend, _Matt_.”

“Matt . . ?” You echo, brow dipping in confusion before your face goes completely slack at his words. Your jaw drops as your mind races to take in the entire scene, before you burst out into a peal of laughter that has your already fatigued body struggling to remain upright. The bite in Kylo’s tone, his passive-aggressive attitude, the rampage he’d just gone on to destroy everything in sight in his quarters – the moment suddenly all made sense.

Was . . . was Kylo _jealous?!_

“Dude, dude, are-” Your sentence breaks as you let out another giggle, before struggling to continue on. “Are you, are you _jealous?_ Of _Matt?_ ”

Kylo blinks at your words, his own face going blank before throwing on a mask of indifference. “Jealous?”

“Uh huh. That’s what it sounds like. Listen, there’s nothing going on with Matt, he’s literally just a friend. If you help me out with this stupid armor then I’ll explain it to you?”

He considers your proposal, face still blank, before his head dips once and he steps out of his room. Blinking, you open your mouth to ask what he was doing, before your eyes once again catch on the state of his quarters; deciding not to ask, you turn and head back to your room, steps lighter despite how tired and achy you were.

“Matt’s a friend.” You begin, walking into your quarters and pausing in the middle of the room, Kylo lingering by the doorframe before coming closer. “He exists in my galaxy, except he’s not actually a person – Matt the Radar Technician is actually you, he’s like an undercover disguise for you.”

“Why would I disguise myself as such a fool?” He hisses, a scowl tugging at his lips as he stops in front of you.

“Hey! Matt’s nice, I’ll have you know – don’t be mean.” You scold, a frown of your own finding its way onto your face as you stare up at him. “And to answer your question, it was for a skit for a TV show, it was hilarious. In the video, ‘Matt’ is obsessed with you, it’s all he talks about.” You snort, avoiding his gaze as you study the bracer, turning your arm to try and find a way of removing it. “It’s funny, because that’s what the real Matt is like.”

“I’m not obsessed with myself.” Kylo grumbles, before reaching out and grabbing your arm to remove the bracer with ease.

Your head snaps up in shock to look at him, a pout on your lips as you open your mouth to complain. “How did you do that so easily?!” However, he doesn’t respond, instead continuing to remove the pieces of armor, dropping them onto the floor in a growing pile. You try to be as helpful as possible, raising your arms and turning when you had to, though when it got to the chest plate, you felt your cheeks heating up as you became aware of just how similar this was to being undressed. “Uh, I can take it from here.”

Kylo steps away, his hands falling to his side, though his eyes never strayed from you, which only caused your cheeks to flush darker as you shift uncomfortably, clearing your throat before making an attempt to remove the piece. As expected, it didn’t shift, and after a few more unsuccessful tries, you let out a huff of defeat and glance back up to Kylo, cheeks practically on fire as you mumble in a near unintelligible voice. “Never mind, I can’t do it.”

If you had been paying attention, you would have caught the twitch of his face that could have been the beginnings of a smirk. He steps forward, and as if by magic, he removes the piece, leaving you to let out a growl of frustration, fighting back the urge to fold your arms over your chest. “Why are you wearing Stormtrooper armor?”

He question catches you off-guard, and your mouth pops open in shock before you reply. “Oh, Phasma said it would be better because I’m training against ‘troopers, so it would only make sense for me to wear it. Y’know, it _hurts_ when they hit if you’re not wearing armor.”

“Is that so?” He murmurs, and you think you can hear a trace of amusement in his voice.

Opening your mouth to respond with a sarcastic remark, your words die on your tongue when Kylo drops to his knees in one fluid motion. A startled yelp escapes you when his hands find your feet, and you jump back, only to find yourself scrambling to hold onto something to balance yourself. Your hands find purchase on Kylo’s shoulders, your fingers curling into the thick fabric, though it takes you a second to realize; when you do, you pull away immediately, though Kylo is quick to steady you lest you fall again.

Before you can question what he’s doing, Kylo is lifting your foot and removing the boot, which was several sizes too big for you. His hands travel up, one settling against the back of your knee whilst the other pulled the shin guard away, your breath catching when you feel his firm grip through the thin material of your pants. Skimming further up, his gentle fingers find the thigh piece of your armor, pulling it off smoothly; before you have time to react, he’s repeating his actions on your other leg.

When all of the armor is piled up, Kylo glances up at you. Several wild curls had slipped forward to rest against his forehead, stray strands catching in his lashes as his dark eyes met yours, and you become painfully aware of the tension in the room, as well as of the fact that his hands were still resting on your leg. Jumping at the realization, you jolt Kylo from his trance, and he straightens up to tower over you, face indifferent.

“Uh, th-thanks.”

Kylo’s head dips, and before you can say anything further, he’s turning and leaving in a flurry of dark robes.

Well, that was … _eventful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, I AM SO SORRY
> 
> I AM A PIECE OF SHIT
> 
> I feel like I abandoned my baby on the doorstep of an orphanage, left to fend for itself, but have no fear, I have returned 
> 
> Still, sorry I haven't updated in like forever, I have no excuse except that I'm lazy


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this chapter with tears in my eyes (and all over my face)
> 
> Though I was hoping for the best, I knew this would happen, because it's 2016 and 2016 just doesn't know when to stop taking
> 
> Rest in peace, Carrie Fisher, you'll always be remembered, in this galaxy and the next.

After getting over the entire ordeal – both the fact that Kylo was actually jealous, and the whole armor incident – during a hot shower to relax your muscles, you had promptly passed out for several hours, waking up to find a droid had, at some point, brought you a meal. You had eaten enthusiastically, famished after the intense workout, before leaving to find Kylo for Force training.

Surprisingly, Force training went without a hitch; there was no mentioning of what had happened earlier, no indications that he acknowledged the rather intimate display when he had helped you, and despite your mind working overtime, you were still drained from combat training, and so there were no wild incidents involving the Force. The hour passed quickly, and you had left Kylo, who gave no explanation as to where he was going.

Your second day of training was similar, minus Kylo; you woke by yourself and walked to training yourself after waking early to figure out how to put on your armor. Just like the day before, you left training aching, though didn’t run into Matt, allowing for you to have a longer nap and more time to actually enjoy your food before going off in search of Kylo.

Each day passed in a similar fashion, though over time you found yourself improving in combat and feeling less tired, though you ached all the same. The awkwardness between you and Kylo had also dissipated, and you found yourself making idle conversation with the Master of Knights once again – Kylo had even started walking you to training again, whenever he had free time, or would meet you at the end to offer a hand with your armor when you were too exhausted to bother.

By the end of two weeks, you found yourself walking back to Kylo’s quarters after Force training, and the two of you would interact; it had started off as simple conversation over your improvements with the Force, before stretching into general conversation. Once, you had mentioned his vast array of books, and before you knew it, you were sat beside him as the two of you discussed literature – well, more like he explained the basics of the language that the book was written in, whilst you were still struggling to understand the complex plot of it. Nevertheless, it was intriguing, and the next evening you were back in the same place as he talked about a different book, just as fascinating as the first.

You found yourself relaxing around him once more, as did Kylo around you – not that he would admit it. Between bonding over training and the discussion of books, Kylo took note of how his heart would skip a beat at the sight of you, how his eyes would linger just a second too long on your face as he explained something to you, and how his heartrate would pick up whenever your eyes lit up with excitement.

No, Kylo absolutely refused to admit it.

Since first meeting him, you had hung out with Matt several more times, finding his company to be a comfort, his behavior and mannerisms seeming to be most similar to that of people back on Earth, even if he did happen to be incredibly awkward. He also happened to be incredibly sweet, offering to fit your phone with a power core that would only have to be charged once a month; you had given him your phone to do so, and when he returned it, it was with a set of headphones for you to listen to your music, a gesture which had resulted in you throwing your arms around him in a grateful hug, to which he had blushed and awkwardly patted at your back.

Whilst Matt’s Kylo-obsession had not mellowed in the slightest, it seemed that Kylo’s jealousy over him had; no longer would Kylo be difficult and snappy whenever you hung out with the technician – though you did notice how Kylo’s face would tighten at the mention of his name – and after your third month on board the Finalizer, you found yourself able to manage time between the two, balancing lunches with Matt and the rest of your free time with the Master of Knights.

It was during one of these intervals where you would switch from one man to the other, when you had just finished lunch with Matt and had slipped out from the mess hall, that you caught sight of Kylo. A light smile tugs at your face, loose robes swirling around your ankles as you turn to make your way to his side, and when you do reach him, he pauses and turns to dip his helmet-clad head in acknowledgement before continuing in his stride.

“Y/N.”

Despite the distortion of the vocoder, you still struggle to fight back the urge to shudder at the sound of your name falling from his lips. Holding back a dreamy sigh, you shake the thought from your mind to glance up, finding the abyss of Kylo’s visor already trained on your face in expectation. Clearing your throat and glancing away when you feel the tell-tale tingles of a blush in your cheeks, you mumble out a quiet, “Yeah?” to prompt him into speaking.

“Force training is postponed for today.”

You pause in your steps, before stumbling to catch up with his pace, a small frown taking over your features as you ponder the reason. “What, why?”

“Come, I’ll tell you in private.” Without giving you a moment to consider, he broadens his steps, and you soon find yourself on the verge of jogging to keep up, though your shoulders sag with relief when the familiar door to Kylo’s quarters come into view. As they slide open, you walk in, only a step away from walking besides him, and as the door slips closed, Kylo reaches up to remove his helmet. As usual, you can’t help but watch as he does so, your eyes latching onto the sight of his dark curls against the pale skin of his throat only to dart away before his eyes were revealed, which was just as well, because as soon as his helmet was off, Kylo’s eyes were pinned to your face, the weight of his gaze making you fidget before you finally glance up at him.

“So, why’s training cancelled?”

“Postponed,” he corrects, slipping away to place his helmet onto his table before turning back to you, “And only for today.”

“Uh huh.” Nodding, you make your way over to the chair that you often found yourself sat in when you and Kylo would talk about books and drop down into it with a sigh. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as Kylo makes his way to you, his long legs and confident strides eating up the distance between the two of you, and within the space of a handful of seconds, he was sat in the seat opposite from your own, legs sprawled as he regards you before explaining.

“Several of my Knights will be joining me on board the Finalizer as of tomorrow. I have called for a meeting, in which my six closest Knights shall attend.” You nod at his words, brow dipping in curiosity about the meeting, though you don’t ask about what it would be about. “It would be a good opportunity for you to fight against someone else well-versed in combat, as opposed to the Stormtroopers you practice on.” He mutters wryly, a faint smirk dancing across his face as he meets your eyes for a brief moment before looking away.

“You say that as if you already have someone in mind ...” Eyes narrowed, your arms fold over your chest as your stance shifts to one of faux-accusation, though a playful grin is quick to take over your features.

“As a matter of fact, I do. You, however, will not find out who that is until tomorrow.”

“What, why? Why won’t you tell me?” You pout, folded arms tightening across your chest as you drop your shoulders.

The faint smirk that had ghosted across his features makes its return, this time tangible enough for you to shift in your seat. That smirk _did things_ to you. “Because in reality, you do not know who your opponent is until the time comes to face them.” Your mouth parts to object, to point out that _actually_ , people get to have at least a general idea of their opponent, only for the words to die on your lips as Kylo leans forward and murmur, “And because I’m your master, and I do not have to tell you anything.”

You attempt to swallow, though all moisture seems to have evaporated from your throat, which would make sense considering the sudden rise in your body’s core temperature. Every time he reminded you of his power, something within you would twist and snap, as if all common sense had melted and dripped out of you. The gleam in his dark eyes, a smooth blend of amusement and dominance, has your mind going momentarily blank, his words the only thing occupying your thoughts before they finally register. Blinking once, twice, you straighten your back and take a deep breath before speaking.

“W-well, technically, if you’re my master, then you do have to tell me stuff. Because, you know, you’re supposed to teach me, and … you c-can’t … d-do that if … you … don’t … t-tell me … things.” Your words fade out into stuttered whispers the longer you stare into his eyes, which seem to grow impossibly darker at your words, his smirk taking on a predatory twist as he stares at you.

“That may be true, but as my apprentice, you hold no power over me to tell me what I should and should not tell you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Your whisper is so quiet that you practically mouth the words, the huff of your breath being the only source of sound to carry your words to Kylo’s ears. Before you had even spoken, you were already screaming at yourself to keep your mouth shut, but when your words register in Kylo’s mind, you find your own mind completely silent, your entire body tense with anticipation as your own eyes locked with his near midnight-black ones.

The silence hangs in the air like fog, neither of you daring to do so much as breathe. The creak of a chair pierces the air as Kylo leans forward, his nose a hair’s-breadth from brushing against your own. The air in your lungs turns to lead, your wide eyes only widening more as Kylo’s eyes drop to your lips, the fan of his dark lashes skimming his cheeks momentarily before his eyes returned to yours.

“The question is,” He whispers, equally silent, “Are _you_ sure?”

You sit with baited breath, frozen in shock, awe, and sexual tension, pupils as equally blown as Kylo’s. Subconsciously, your lips part, and you suck a quivering breath in to sate your lungs, before your tongue darts out to lick at your lower lip, as if you could taste the ghost of his breath. Kylo mimics your action, his own tongue dipping out, and you hesitantly lean closer, your nose just brushing his.

The contact, however minor, snaps him out of his trance, and before you can blink, Kylo is on his feet and out of the room, the sway of his dark robes catching your eye as he leaves without a word. With wide eyes, you try to comprehend just what the hell almost happened, though you only manage to come up blank.

Oh boy, that was _close_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone even wants to read this after such terrible news, and though it might not bring joy or entertainment to anyone, it was the only thing I could think to do in commemoration of such an incredible person
> 
> (feel free to chat with me in the comments, we can all participate in a group comforting thread)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm b a c k bitches

For all your worrying over the near-kiss yesterday, when you and Kylo finally met in the morning, he acted as if nothing had happened. Glancing up at him anxiously, you’re met with his stoic face – it takes you a moment to realize that he’s in his usual attire and that his helmet is held under his arm – and it takes all that you have not to crumble into a heap of embarrassment and babble an endless string of apologies and half-assed excuses. Instead, you straighten yourself out in an attempt at matching his height – news flash, it doesn’t help – and nod up at him in greeting.

Kylo’s head dips a fraction of an inch, a barely detectable motion, but your eyes just manage to catch the action, and your shoulders relax as you take the twitch as him returning your silent greeting. His robes swirl around his legs like shadows as he turns sharply on his heel, and your feet are already moving to catch up before he’s even lifted his foot. As the two of you fall into step besides each other, any remaining tension melts away, replaced with a sense of comfort that had you drawing closer to him.

Beside you, the Master of Knights allows his dark eyes to dart to you, gauging your emotional state before he starts any interaction. With a quiet clearing of his throat, Kylo’s tongue darts out to skim his lower lip before he speaks. Having glanced up as soon as you heard him, you feel your heart skip a beat before racing to catch up at the sight of him licking his lip, and your mind automatically flashes back to the night before. With a sharp shake of your head, to divert your attention to the present, lest you miss out on what Kylo is about to say.

“Adira will be a suitable opponent for you; she is around your height, and won’t hold back and let you win like the previous Knights … myself included.” Kylo explains, not glancing your way. Rolling your eyes at his comment about ‘holding back’, you fight down the urge to tell him that _actually_ , they had all underestimated you, and it wasn’t because of them ‘holding back’ that you had won. _You definitely hadn’t drawn with Kylo because he was ‘holding back’…_

“Okay then. Adira is the one you said I wouldn’t like, right?” You catch him tilting his head in your direction, and you look up to catch his eyes, which seemed to squint the slightest bit in amusement.

“Yes.” He murmurs quietly. “Adira is the one I said you wouldn’t like.”

“What makes you say that?” Curiosity colors your tone, head tilting, and your hair falls over your shoulder, drawing Kylo’s attention as his eyes stray from yours to stare at the sway of your hair, captivated by the way it brushed at the bare skin of your neck and shoulder.

“Adira can be . . . unreasonable at times. She has the tendency to mock others.”

“So, she has an attitude problem?”

Kylo’s lips quirk up the slightest bit behind his mask at your words, fighting down a chuckle at your summary. “If you wish to put it that way, then yes.”

“Well, in that case, I should be able to deal with her. Maybe it’s just because she’s surrounded by men?” You ponder with a shrug, and Kylo lets out a low hum in what could have been agreement. “She’s probably like that to make herself known – would rather be seen as a bitch than be walked all over by others . . .”

“That may be so,” He murmurs, looking straight ahead before glancing back to you, and you can feel his eyes make contact with yours. “But don’t let your guard down around her.”

Your brow dips at his warning, but you nod anyway, turning to face ahead as you draw close to the training hall; the same one that you had fought Coen and Kylo in. Several dozen officers are scattered about, at different stages of working out, though almost all of them freeze in place as they catch sight of you and Kylo entering, his robes billowing behind him as your shorter, lighter robes mimic his.

The two of you stride over to the area that you had previously occupied, any officer nearby scrambling to get further away, either out of fear or the knowledge that you would soon require the space, though you had a feeling that it was mostly due to the former reason, and you fight back the urge to snort in amusement at their behavior. Your mouth opens to ask when the Knights would be joining you, though you hold your tongue as you feel the Force around you shift, twisting and writhing as if it was caught between two separated parties, the strength of the connection only growing as they drew closer.

With wide eyes, you glance over your shoulder just as the first Knight makes his appearance; Jakobe. Even though they all wore helmets, you could tell it was him by his extreme height and muscular frame, and a small smile finds its way onto your face. To his side is another figure, which you assume to be Coen, and behind them stand three others, all hulking and intimidating, and you can feel the smile slip from your face as you take in the sight before you. They seem to move in unison, steps muted yet defined, ringing in time like the beat of a drum, or a heartbeat, and your spine stiffens as they get closer.

Kylo steps in front of you, and you blink twice before shifting to stand next to him, steps hesitant as your gaze flits between Kylo and the other Knights. “Where is she?” Kylo grits out; you can hear the frustration in his voice, and your eyes scan the Knights before you to find that one was missing – Adira.

Jakobe clears his throat and steps forward, back straightening as he addresses the Master of the Knights. “Adira will be here shortly, she was just-”

“Calm down, I’m here.” A female voice snaps. Your view of her blocked by the Knights, though she soon comes into your line of sight as she slips around to stand next to Coen. One arm propped her helmet to her side, meanwhile her other hand was placed on her hip; her attire was an equal balance of feminine and masculine, though the way she wore it screamed ‘femme fatale’. Tight leather pants clung to her long legs like a second skin, her feet clad in a pair of vicious-looking boots that lacked a heel, though the sole was thick enough to be considered a platform – not that she needed it; she had the figure of a supermodel (Kylo’s perception of ‘around your height’ seriously needed to be reconsidered – she was clearly taller than you, even without the boots).

She wore ragged layers of robes, the top one made of a thin, web-like material, the tattered ends floating about her even as she stood still. They were tapered in at the waist by several delicate belts that overlapped, though their daintiness was easily overlooked by the fact that from each one hung a myriad of knives, each one deadly sharp. Her hair was a fiery copper, hanging to her waist in close curls, though several locks were made up into braids, whilst other strands were decorated with beads and hoops that swung when she moved.

If you were ever asked to describe an elf, she would probably be what you described; her skin was porcelain pale, inhumanely perfect and clear, not a single scar or pimple or freckle. Her nose was small, sharp and upturned, resting above a full pair of naturally reddened lips, the rich color a heavy contrast against her eyes, so pale and colorless that they almost weren’t even silver, though her pupils were wide and blown as she stared directly at you.

If she was a bitch, as Kylo implied, then you were _fucked_. She was already threatening just by looking at her – she was stunning, and she knew it, the way she smirked at you before her lip curled in disgust giving away the fact. But add the attitude problem into the equation? You could already feel yourself shrinking away from her, unconsciously adjusting your footing to slip closer to Kylo; the action doesn’t go unnoticed by her, and her pale eyes narrow at you before her expression smooths into one of mild displeasure, though you could practically _see_ the gears of her mind shifting.

Waves of annoyance roll off of Kylo as he stares at the tall woman, though she stares right back, the ghost of a smirk threatening to erupt across her face. “Adira.” He finally greets, tone neutral though you could sense just how much it must have taken for him to hold back his anger.

“Kylo.” She mimics him, though her head dips slightly in respect.

With a concealed sigh, he regards his Knights before nodding once. At his signal, the Knights reach up in unison to remove their helmets, your eyes automatically darting to Coen and Jakobe’s face, both of which nod to you in greeting, though Jakobe also throws you a grin. The other three also remove their helmets, and you try hard to maintain a steady breathing pattern. _Why are they all so damn attractive?! And **tall**?_ They move forward to introduce themselves, and your eyes scan over each one as they do so.

“I am Ephraim.” The first man introduces, his dark locks of pin-straight hair falling forward as he bows his head low, and when he straightens, the tips of his hair brush against his shoulders. Tanned skin is dusted by a smattering of pale freckles, their coloring almost almost white, and you refrain from tilting your head in curiosity, aware of his dark eyes on you.

“Lev.” The second states, stepping forward and slamming a fist to his chest before he steps back into place. Eyes the color of caramel gaze at you, like two clean-cut topaz gems set deep in his dark skin, so rich and pigmented in color that he almost starts to merge with his dark robes. His face is made up of sharp angles and smooth planes, his jawline like the edge of a blade as smooth, scar-free skin is stretched taut over it, and you’re almost shocked to find yourself envious of the incredible flawless texture of his skin.

The final man nods at you, a polite smile tugging at his pale lips, and you hesitantly smile back. “The name’s Orson, ma’am.” You fight the urge to snort as he addresses you, instead settling for widening your grin at his politeness. Bright blue eyes meet yours, framed by thick lashes that almost brush against his rosy cheeks when he blinks. His face is typically handsome, his strong jaw dusted with day old stubble, and his hair is neatly trimmed, though it had been ruffled out of its style to hang around his face and in his eyes; you found it hard to believe that he was a Knight of Ren, what with his polite attitude and pretty-boy looks, but nevertheless he has a Knight’s helmet under his arm.

“Um, I’m Y/N.”

Jakobe smirks, reaching out an arm to drag you against his side in an affectionate half-hug. “This short thing here managed to take me down in about a minute flat.” He states proudly, and your cheeks flare up at his words, avoiding the eyes of the three curious Knights.

“Surely that’s not something you should be boasting about, Jakobe?” Orson asks, brow quirking up as he flashes a smirk.

“Doesn’t matter, someone’s gotta boast, and if she ain’t gonna, then I’ll do it for her – it was an incredible feat, even if I was on the receiving end.”

Once again, you wince when he mentions it, and you hurry to mutter out a quiet apology. “Yeah, I’m still really sorry about that – I didn’t mean it . . .”

He chuckles, jostling you in his grip before his arm slips away from your shoulders, only to clap you on the back. “No harm done, kid, see?”

You _would_ see, however, his innocent slap to the back had driven you forward, and you stumble into the chest of Ephraim, who reaches up to steady you with two firm hands wrapped around your biceps. Tensing in his grasp, you soon relax when he tilts his head down to give you a small smile of reassurance, making sure that you were steady on your feet before letting go. “You say no harm done, yet you just sent her reeling with only a tap to the back.” Ephraim points out, and you flush at his statement.

“Oh! Sorry, little one! You alright?” You nod as he carefully settles a concerned hand on your shoulder, grasp gentle. “Don’t doubt her for a second though. I did, and I got my ass kicked – literally!” He lets out a deep chuckle at the memory, patting lightly at your shoulder. “She’s tougher than she looks, this one, took down me, Coen, and almost took Kylo down too. Admittedly, she did so with a helping hand from the Force . . .”

A deep flush builds up in your cheeks at the realization that he must have heard the . . . _suggestive thought_ that you had projected during your fight with Kylo, and you jab an elbow in his side. “If you continue that sentence then I’ll do some lasting damage to you, I swear I will.”

Though you attempt to sound as if you meant the threat, Jakobe merely chuckles, jostling you once again in amusement. “I’d like to see you try kid!”

“Enough.”

The five of you turn to face Kylo, who had set his helmet on the ground to approach you all. Coen stands beside him; meanwhile Adira stands off to the side, disinterested as she takes her time scraping flecks of non-existent dirt out from underneath her nails with the tip of one of her knives.

“Y/N, prepare to fight with Adira.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, just depressed lol 
> 
> I'm back for now though, y'all are gonna have to keep me in check though!!

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is my first work on here (and also my first Star Wars fic omfg)
> 
> I don't really know what to say other than please let me know if you liked it? Let me know in the comments, kudos and stuff like that?


End file.
